Storm Cycle
by R-I-C-A-R-D
Summary: When a human colony on the edges of the Terminus Systems apparently forgets how to answer the phone, the Council send the Normandy to investigate. Semi-sequel to Storm Warning.
1. Cousin Zoe

**1. Cousin Zoe**

First Lieutenant Hayley Storm, callsign Hailstorm sits at the table in the _Normandy's_mess hall, addressing the vid recorder sitting on the table before her. She's in the process of replying to the latest in a string of vidmail messages from her overly-excitable cousin Zoe. Ever since word of her transfer to the _Normandy_ had made it beyond Storm's immediate family, Zoe had bombarded her with questions about her new posting.

Actually, most of Zoe's questions are about one thing in particular - Commander Shepard, Storm's CO and First Human Spectre. _Cue fanfare and ticker tape parade _Storm thinks wryly. Shepard's actions during the Geth War and her hunt for the rogue - and now very dead - Spectre Saren Arterius have become the stuff of legend, shamelessly exploited by the politicians to improve Humanity's standing among the other Council races. As a side effect of Shepard's heroics, enlistment in the Systems Alliance military is up. Way up. Particularly from the 'lower socio-economic' areas of Earth. People from the wrong side of the tracks, in other words. Storm wonders how Shepard handles it all: the weight of expectation and being used as some symbol by the politicians.

With a sigh, Storm leans in closer to the vid recorder; the recorder's lens whirs slightly as it keeps her in focus. Behind her she can hear booted footfalls on the deck; somebody else arriving in the mess. Time to wrap this up, she thinks.

"To answer your questions, _yes_ Commander Shepard _is _as tall as she looks in the vids," Storm rolls her eyes "And _no_ she _doesn't_ lean that way. See you soon, Zoe," with that, Storm ends the recording and sits back shaking her head.

Gunnery Chief Williams, the owner of the booted footfalls takes a seat opposite Hailstorm, eyebrows raised slightly. "Commander Shepard doesn't lean which way, Ma'am?" she asks, placing a mug of coffee before her. Steam rises from the chipped ceramic mug and Williams blows gently on the black coffee before taking a sip.

Hailstorm smiles slightly. She gets on well with Williams, the other woman reminding her of a less screwed-up version of herself. Both women are close to their families and once started on the subject, it's difficult to get them to shut up. "That was my cousin Zoe. She's a little bit obsessed with the Commander."

"Obsessed how?" Williams asks, before taking another sip of coffee.

"She wants to have Shepard's babies," Storm deadpans just as Williams raises the mug to her lips. Williams chokes on her coffee and a fine mist of caffeinated beverage sprays from her lips over the table top.

Coughing, Williams slaps the mug back down, spilling more coffee. "She wants to do what with _who?_" she finally manages to gasp.

A smile playing over her lips, Storm says "Zoe wants to have Shepard's children. It's kinda sweet...in a perverse way."

Williams sits back in her seat, a look of stark disbelief on her face. "How would that even work?" she asks, tone of voice betraying shock.

Storm shrugs and absently traces the tip of her right index finger in random shapes through the spilled coffee. "Hypothetically," she begins, looking at the patterns drawn by her finger, "You'd extract an egg from the Commander, artificially inseminate it, implant it in Cousin Zoe and nine months later," Storm spreads her hands apart, "The Miracle of Childbirth."

Williams just stares blankly at Lieutenant Storm for several seconds before replying, "That is wrong. On _so _many levels." Standing, Williams retrieves a damp dishcloth from next to the food dispenser and uses it to mop up the spilled coffee, obliterating Storm's masterpiece in the process.

"Hey, I wasn't done with that yet!" Hailstorm protests. Williams shrugs apologetically before she leaves. Storm lets her go before retrieving her vid recorder and making for the elevator that connects the main deck to the garage.

She's met at the elevator by the very subject of her recent discourse with Williams.

"Commander," she salutes Shepard. Shepard returns the salute and presses the green-glowing control panel. The elevator seems to emit an almost tired-sounding sigh as the doors open, heralding the elevator journey that doesn't actually take twenty minutes, it just feels as though it does.

_Most advanced, fastest ship in the fleet yet she has the slowest elevator_ Storm thinks as she and Shepard step inside the vacant elevator car.

"Up for another sparring session, Lieutenant?" Shepard asks, glancing briefly at the younger officer. The one on one unarmed combat sessions are ostensibly used to supplement the exercise routines of the _Normandy_'s marines and crew. After all, there are only so many times you can bench-press your own body weight before the exercise becomes mind-numbing.

Of course, the _true _objective of the sparring sessions is to establish who among the ship's personnel is the best scrapper. Somewhat surprisingly, in Storm's view, it isn't Shepard. Williams either for that matter. Private Fredericks currently holds the championship belt. Or he would, if such a thing existed.

Absently Storm rubs her cheekbone where a bruise is fading to a yellowish green. "Gee, I don't know, Commander," she says dryly. "I _already_ look like a victim of spousal abuse. On the other hand, I do owe you a few hits."

The two officers exit from the elevator, stepping into the _Normandy's _garage. Parked against the starboard bulkhead is the M35 Mako used to deliver the shore party to its objectives during combat. The M35 is the bane of Storm's existence - the steering is exceedingly twitchy at high speeds and the suspension tends to jostle the crew in their seats an excessive amount. Despite trying different suspension settings and installing updates to the electronic stability program, the Mako remains twitchy as ever.

"One of these days, that thing will get us killed," Storm has told Shepard on more than one occasion.

The Commander merely shrugged, "We all gotta die sometime, Hailstorm," she replied.

"Uh huh," Storm nodded, "I'd kinda like to avoid death by fishtailing into a boulder the size of my parents' house, Ma'am."

Presently Shepard and the younger woman step inside the yellow circle spray painted onto the grey decking of the garage. The rules are simple: no eye-gouging or hitting below the belt. Beyond that, anything goes.

As always, a small crowd gathers outside the Circle of Death as it's come to be known, to observe the two combatants. "What is it about watching two women fighting that gets men so excited, do you think?" Storm asks, observing the various crew members as she steps into the circle.

"Heh, too bad we can't get giant tub of jelly in here," Fredericks cracks. His buddies guffaw and slap him on the shoulder.

Storm and Shepard begin slowly circling one another, lashing out with a feint here and there to test the other's defenses. Storm fakes a right hook at Shepard's head and, as the Commander raises her arms to block the phantom blow, Storm snaps out a kick that connects solidly with Shepard's ribs, knocking her back a few paces and eliciting oohs and aahs from the onlookers.

Shepard nods at Storm before unleashing a volley of kicks and punches that Storm is only barely able to block. Shepard forces her back to the edge of the circle, almost pushing her out of it which would grant her victory by default.

For the next several minutes, the two combatants trade blows. Even after mentally reviewing her actions afterwards, Storm isn't quite sure how she managed it but somehow, she grabs hold of Shepard and dislocates her right shoulder. Upon hearing the _pop_, the crowd falls silent. The silence is broken only by the heavy respiration of the women...and the cry of pain that Shepard isn't quite able to hold back.

"Oh!" she gasps, falling to her knees.

_Oh dear God, I broke the Commander,_ a mortified Hailstorm thinks.

"Oooh, that's gotta hurt," Fredericks says, giving voice to the crowd's collective thought.

Storm whirls to face him, "Get the doctor!" she barks. Fredericks nods and double-times it to the elevator.

"Commander?" Storm tentatively asks, crouching before the other woman. Shepard looks up at her, face white with pain, rivulets of perspiration running from her hairline and down her face like tears.

"Nicely done, Hayles," Shepard manages to get out past clenched teeth.

"I am _so_ sorry!" Storm babbles.

"Why? You achieved your objective. OK so you busted my arm but.." Shepard shrugs with her other shoulder.

"What's taking the doc so long?" Williams asks.

"The friggin' elevator's probably still going," Mike the Requisitions Officer says.

"Lieutenant, be a sweetheart and pop my arm back in, would you?" Shepard says, breathing rapidly through her nose.

"Uh...OK." Storm gently takes hold of the Commander and says, "On three. One..._three!" _before resetting the shoulder joint.

Shepard tosses her head back, droplets of perspiration flying and voices a pained shriek. "What the _hell_?" she gasps.

"I said on three," Storm shrugs; Shepard glares at her, cradling her right arm in her other hand. The elevator doors wheeze open and Dr Chakwas arrives, accompanied by Fredericks.

"You missed 'two,'" Shepard grinds out before turning to face the doctor. "So good of you to arrive so quickly."

Chakwas ignores the jibe and waves the Lieutenant away. "What have you done to yourself now, Commander?" she asks in her dry voice.

"It's my fault," Storm says in a small voice. This is worse than the time she broke her mother's Ming vase. The doctor eyes her then returns her attention to the Commander.

"Well, whoever put the arm back into place did a good job."

"Me, again," Storm replies, face turning red. Chakwas nods.

"Good job, Lieutenant. I'll make a field medic out of you yet."

"This is all very pleasant but could somebody _please _shoot me up with some drugs, now?" Shepard mutters. Chakwas and Storm trade glances before they help the Commander to her feet.

The crew give Shepard, Storm and Chakwas plenty of concerned looks as the trio make their way to the medbay. With a sigh, Shepard slumps against an exam table. Storm hovers nervously near the door. "Should I leave now?"

Chakwas eyes the young woman coolly. Skin still moist from her recent exertions and flushed with embarrassment, regulation-length blonde hair lying damply across her forehead, fading bruises on her face. "When I say I'll make a field medic of you, I meant it, Lieutenant," Chakwas explains and nods in the direction of a supply cabinet mounted on the bulkhead. "Fetch me a sling."

Storm nods and moves to retrieve the item. Chakwas turns to her unwilling patient. "I'm fine," Shepard says, "I don't need anything else."

Chakwas merely prods Shepard in the right shoulder and nods as Shepard hisses in pain. "Yes," she says in her dry British accent, "You're completely combat-ready and your performance isn't at all compromised. Until further notice, I'm pulling you from the combat roster, Commander."

"Oh no," Storm whispers as she hands Chakwas the sling.

"Like _hell_ you are!" Shepard barks.

Chakwas folds her arms over her chest and eyes Shepard like a nanny disappointed in an errant child. "You may be the CO of this vessel but this is a medical issue and as far as medical issues go, I am God."

Shepard's lips pull back from her teeth in an unconscious snarl before she slumps in defeat. "For how long?" she eventually says without looking up at the medic.

"Until I say otherwise. I'm sure the Lieutenant here is quite capable of leading the shore party should it become necessary."

For her part, Hailstorm says nothing. She merely stands back and wishes she were elsewhere. Anywhere else. Knee-deep in batarians, even. She turns to Shepard when the Commander addresses her. "Storm, head up to the bridge and confirm that we're still on schedule to arrive at the Citadel." Storm nods; Shepard could easily raise Joker on the comm but she's offering her the chance to make a dignified exit.

Before she leaves the Commander, her arm now in the sling, she says "I'm truly sorry, Ma'am...I was in a bit of a zone, you know?" Shepard nods wordlessly, knowing Storm will mentally flagellate herself plenty over this. That's what makes Storm such a good officer, Shepard thinks: she cares about those under her command. Of course, sometimes, she cares too much.

---

Flight Lieutenant Jeff "Joker" Moreau looked up as the tall First Lieutenant stepped up beside his station. "So I heard you broke the Commander's arm?" he said, a sardonic smile playing over his bearded features.

Storm frowned, a line appearing in her otherwise smooth forehead. "Right, I forgot you spend your life practically plugged into the grapevine," she said, her mood dark. Storm shoved her hands into the pockets of her fatigues, feeling tired. "Anyway, it was only dislocated. Chakwas took her off active duty though."

"Oh man," Joker said cheerfully, "Are _you _in the shit." Joker turned back to his warmly glowing control consoles. A practiced left to right sweep told him all systems were steady. Outside the forward viewports was a riot of reds shifting into blues and back again as the_ Normandy _flew at FTL speeds through space towards her destination. The Citadel Council had summoned Shepard for a briefing and the crew had also been granted a week-long leave on the Citadel while Shepard played politics in the Tower.

"We still on schedule?" Storm asked. Joker turned a withering stare on her, as though asking if they were still due to arrive when they were due to arrive were an affront to his personal honour.

"Yes, Lieutenant, we are still on schedule."

"Good, at least I can give Shepard _some_ good news," Storm said, morose.

When Joker spoke again, his tone was softer, "Hey, I don't normally do this 'heart to heart' thing but you really need to quit beating yourself up over this. So you pulled Shepard's arm out of its socket? Big deal. She's been shot, stabbed, almost blown up _and_ had a gigantic piece of alien ship fall on her. To be perfectly blunt, Storm, _your_ attempts at inflicting bodily injury on Shepard are pretty pedestrian."

"And this is supposed to make me feel better?" Storm quipped with a smile.

Joker shrugged and turned back to his displays. "Like I said...heart to heart isn't my thing."

"So I'm noticing," Storm said and gestured to the vacant co-pilot's chair. "Mind if I sit?"

"You gonna start backseat-driving?"

"No, but I might put my feet up on your consoles. They look so shiny and inviting, don't they?" Storm smirked as she settled herself into the seat. Joker just turned that withering look on her again. "So, what are your plans for shore leave?" Storm asked, eyeing the displays. Flight operations were beyond her but her engineering training gave her the insight to divine what the various amber-glowing holo-displays meant. Everything was reassuringly normal.

"That your less than subtle way of coming onto me, Hailstorm?" Joker asked, giving her a sidelong glance.

Storm rolled her eyes, "Yes, Jeffrey. I am madly in love with you, have been since the moment our eyes first met across the mess-table and I just can't hold it in anymore! Take me now!" she said in a breathy little voice, batting her eyelashes furiously.

Joker snorted, "A simple 'get lost, Moreau' would have sufficed, you know."

"Seriously though, you're not spending a week-long leave on the ship, are you?"

Joker tapped the metal leg braces, that, along with his crutches allowed him to walk unaided. "I kinda have mobility issues. That and I hate the teeming hordes."

Storm shrugged. "If you change your mind and need company..." she trailed off.

"...then I'll book a session at the Consort's chambers," Joker finished.

Storm just shook her head, brushing aside a strand of hair. "Only you could manage to work prostitutes into a conversation so effortlessly."

"Now that was uncalled for, Storm," Joker admonished, wagging a finger at her. "The Consort's acolytes are a galaxy apart from simple hookers."

Storm nodded. "Of course. Class is everything. Be seeing you, Moreau," she said and rose from her seat. Joker touched two fingers to his forehead in salute as she left.

---

The _Normandy _settles smoothly into her berth, docking clamps embracing her hull like the arms of a long-lost lover. The vessel's airlock cycles open and members of her crew and marine detachment begin filing out to enjoy their week of leave, Gunnery Chief Williams and Hailstorm at the forefront.

Shepard is among the last to leave the ship. She's in dress uniform for this oh-so-important session with the Council. Rows of medals and ribbons are pinned to the uniform jacket, the Star of Terra awarded to her after the Geth War, among them. Her right arm hangs suspended in its sling. With a long-suffering sigh, Shepard boards the elevator. Times like this, she wonders what possessed her to become an officer in the first place. _I'd be happier right now in Williams' position._ Then she shakes her head briskly enough that a strand of black hair comes loose and falls across her forehead. "You are what you are and wishing things were different won't help anything," she tells herself. A sardonic voice from inside her head whispers, _Of course, O Wise One._

The elevator doors open to reveal the C-Sec Academy and uniformed officers going about their business. Dodging around cops, perps and witnesses to various crimes, Shepard makes for the rapid transit terminal and punches in her destination: the Tower. "Once more into the breach, dear friends," she says to herself as the transit car arrives.

Meanwhile, First Lieutenant Storm accompanied by Gunnery Chief Williams decide to visit Flux. The reason for this is twofold: Flux is a somewhat less shady place than Chora's Den and they're less likely to be embroiled in somebody else's shootout and Chora's itself, according to the newsvids has been temporarily closed down following a raid in the last week.

"No great loss," Williams says as she and the LT settle into another transit car.

"So, drinks, gambling or dancing?" Storm asks as their transport zips through the Citadel's artificial skyline towards the Wards.

"Pardon?" Williams looks quizically at her.

"When we get to Flux," Storm explains, "Do you want to get some drinks, hit the Quasar machines or bust a move on the dance-floor?"

"Dance?" Williams looks down at her boots, "In _these?"_

"Fair point," Storm concedes as the transit car settles to a gentle stop outside Flux.


	2. When in Doubt

**2. When in doubt...**

Standing in the gaming area of Flux, Williams and Storm eyed the scary-blank look on the faces of the more hardcore gamblers as they sat hunched before the Quasar machines, mechanically slotting credits in and pressing the shiny buttons.

"And I thought husks looked dead-eyed," Williams said as she and the LT walked by the high-stakes machines and found a pair of unoccupied low-stakes Quasar stations. Storm had a self-imposed limit on how much to gamble: She'd leave when one of two things happened - either she doubled her starting money or lost it all.

Breaking even after several games, Storm noted a blinking indicator on her omni-tool and pushed herself away from the Quasar machine. "I prefer blackjack with real cards," she muttered to herself as she tapped a command into her omni-tool, setting it to triangulate the signal it had picked up. The omni bleeped and, as she moved through the club patrons, the bleeping sped up, indicating she was heading in the right direction. Soon she stood before a Quasar machine tucked against the far wall. It seemed identical to every other machine here but something about it had tripped the omni-tool's sensor array.

Storm looked over her shoulder to see if she was being watched but the gamblers were still gambling and the volus bartender was mixing cocktails. Storm turned back to the machine and used her Bluewire's wireless connections to interface with the Quasar's systems. "Well, well..." Storm said quietly to herself as the Bluewire detected the siphoning of credits from the machine to an unknown location, the signal from the gambling machine being bounced through a series of points throughout the Citadel to make tracking it more difficult.

By now Williams had joined her and peered over her shoulder at the machine. "What's up, LT?" she asked.

"Seems like somebody's diverting credits from this machine to an unknown location," Storm turned to the other woman, "Wanna play detective?"

Williams made a show of looking around the club. "Gee, LT. I dunno, there's _so_ much going on here! I'd hate to miss anything!"

Storm laughed softly. "Fall in."

"Aye, Ma'am."

---

After following the signal through what _isn't_ the length and breadth of the Citadel but feels like it, Storm and Williams arrive at the Emporium in the Presidium level.

"Signal's coming from the back room behind that hanar," Storm says, nodding towards the gently glowing pink jellyfish-like creature floating in the centre of the room.

The hanar sees them (though how it accomplishes this with no apparent optical organs, Storm isn't sure) and floats towards them.

"This one offers greetings, humans," the hanar begins. "Welcome to its decadent emporium. Please take time to browse the fantastic items it has for sale."

Something about the way her translation protocol says 'fantastic items' sets Storms teeth on edge but she merely nods and begins browsing the hanar's fantastic items, feigning an interest in a copy of the Complete Works of Shakespeare. "Light bedtime reading," she says, pointing out the rather thick volume. As they move through the displays, Storm and Williams edge ever closer to the rear area and the signal emanating from there.

The hanar floats towards another pair of would-be customers, an asari and turian, no doubt to enthuse about its fantastic items and as Storm is about to duck into the rear area, she catches sight of something that doesn't require her to feign interest - a portable electric keyboard. She can't take the hulking great piano with real ivory keys that sits in her parents' house but this, this she can fold up and take with her on the _Normandy_.

"Ma'am?" Williams asks, resisting an urge to drag the LT away from the keyboard before she begins to...

Too late. Unselfconsciously, Hailstorm powers on the keyboard and plays a few bars of the Moonlight Sonata before segueing into John Lennon's Imagine.

"Imagine there's no heaven," Storm gently sings while Williams stands tapping a foot nervously. This is the LT's idea of not drawing attention? "It's easy if you try," Storm continues. "No hell below us, above us only sky..."

"Is the other perhaps interested in purchasing the item?" the hanar asks from directly behind Storm, having floated silently behind her.

"Jesus!" Storm blurts and spins around. "Uh..." she glances back at the keyboard. _Eh, you only live once_. "Do you deliver?" she asks.

With the logistics of delivery and payment eventually settled, the hanar moves on to assist other customers, leaving Storm and Williams free to finally investigate the origin of the signal.

"We came all this way and it's a freaking computer terminal?" Williams shakes her head in exasperation upon seeing the dull grey computer terminal tucked against the wall. Status lights blink on and off before burning a bright red.

"Probability of detection: one hundred percent," a synthesised male voice addresses them from the terminal.

"Well this is unexpected," Storm says dryly as she shuts down her omni-tool.

"Attention all organics within lethal radius: attempt to move and be destroyed."

"Sooo what's an AI like you doing in a place like this?" Storm quips, eliciting a laugh from Williams.

Sobering up, Storm fires up her omni-tool and begins a battle of wits with the computer, attempting to shut it down before it can complete its self-destruction routines and turn both her and Williams into a fine red mist.

Williams observes the LT for several seconds, noting the look of intense concentration on her face as she tries first one thing and then another. Then Williams' gaze lights on something in the corner and she bends over it.

Straightening up she says, "Lieutenant?" and gets no reply.

"Lieutenant?" she tries again.

"I'm kinda busy here trying to prevent us both being vaporised, Williams," Storm says without looking up.

Williams sighs deeply. "_Lieutenant!"_

"_What?!"_ Storm barks at her over her shoulder. Williams merely reaches down and unplugs the computer from the wall outlet.

The terminal shuts down and the lights go dark. The faint hum of power from the terminal dwindles away to silence as the drives spin down.

For several seconds Storm can only stand motionless, mouth slightly ajar, staring at the Gunnery Chief as Williams nonchalantly twirls the unplugged power cable around like a lasso before dropping it. Shrugging, Williams says, "You know what they say: when in doubt, yank it out."

---

Shepard exited the elevator onto the Presidium, having completed her business before the Council. Her former commanding officer aboard the _Normandy_, David Anderson, now the human representative on the Council seemed to have been genuinely apologetic about her being made to come out here rather than have the Council address her via a secure comm channel. The other Council members had acted as though her being summoned from the other end of the galaxy just so they could talk at her for an hour was perfectly reasonable on their part.

As she made her way through the crowds, long strides carrying her rapidly away from the Tower, Shepard loosened the top button of her uniform, freeing herself from the collar that seemed to be intent on slowly choking her and sighed heavily. In the six months since the battle for the Citadel, neither she nor any other Spectres had turned up anything that may lead them to where the rest of the Reapers had concealed themselves in dark space.

Finally, the Council had called her before them to explain her lack of progress. Keeping a tight rein on her growing anger and frustration, Shepard had explained that, even after six months of intense study by dozens of scholars well versed in Prothean history, only a very small amount of the data from the archives on Ilos had been deciphered. And, so far at least, none of it shined any light as to the whereabouts of the Reapers.

"So, Commander," the turian said snidely, "What you are telling us is that you have found nothing?"

"No, Councillor. What I am _telling _you is that so far, the researchers sent to Ilos haven't been able to decipher anything of value as far as locating the Reapers is concerned." Shepard had shrugged awkwardly, "On the upside, the researchers have been going absolutely batshit over the depth of information pertaining to many aspects of Prothean civilisation that has been uncovered. Purely from an archaeological viewpoint, Ilos is the greatest discovery ever made." _And you idiots grounded me. Nice going._

"Be that as it may, Commander," the salarian deigned to speak, "We are still at what you humans call 'square one.' So for now, we have a new assignment for you."

With a monumental effort, Shepard had resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Instead she glanced briefly at Anderson. The months spent rebuilding the damaged parts of the Citadel following the geth attack and restoring order had taken a toll on the man. His close-cropped black hair was noticeably greyer at the temples and he looked as though he hadn't slept fully in weeks. He nodded fractionally at Shepard and she allowed herself to relax slightly.

"A human colony in the Traverse has gone silent, Commander," Anderson addressed her. "We want you to get onsite as soon as possible and investigate."

"How long has the colony been quiet?" Shepard had asked. _Knowing my luck, the place has already been razed to the ground by pirates._

"The last scheduled Alliance patrol reported no troubles. That was two weeks ago," the asari reported. "The next patrol isn't scheduled until a month. We need confirmation on the fate of the colonists soonest, Commander."

Shepard nodded. This she could do. "I'll cancel all leaves and depart immediately, Councillors."

The asari nodded regally. "This session of the Council is now closed."

As Shepard made her way through the milling crowds towards the nearest mass transit hub, she became aware of a voice calling her name. Turning, Shepard was met by a small girl and a woman about her own age, likely the girl's mother.

"Commander Shepard?" the little girl asked, serious-looking dark eyes seeming to light up as Shepard turned to face her. The little girl's hand was held by her mother and the girl pulled on her mother's arm repeatedly, dragging them both towards Shepard. A small smile crept over Shepard's lips. She had never seen herself as the maternal type but the kid was cute and probably got her own way all the time. _She'll be a handful when she's older._

"I'm so sorry, Commander," the mother said, "April's a massive fan." The small child, April, nodded enthusiastically, brown pigtails bouncing up and down.

"April?" Shepard began, kneeling beside the child, "That's a pretty name."

April pointed at Shepard's sling. "What happened to your arm?"

Shepard smiled, "One of my officers dislocated it during sparring practice."

"Oh," April said, eyes wide. "Did you put him in jail?"

"April!" her mother hissed, mortified.

Shepard laughed. "It's fine, really. And no, I didn't throw her in jail. It was an accident."

Turning serious again, April said solemnly, "When I grow up, I want to be just like you."

"I..." Shepard trailed off, thinking, _No you don't want to be like me when you grow up, sweetie. You really don't._ Standing straight again, Shepard spoke to April's mother. "Keep her safe, will you? And if you can, persuade her to become something other than a soldier. A bright girl like her deserves a chance to really flourish."

"Thank you, Commander Shepard," April's mother said, "Thank you."

---

Reboarding the _Normandy _and clearing decon, the first thing Shepard hears is the sound of piano music coming from...somewhere. Head cocked to one side, Shepard listens long enough to place the tune. She thinks it's Fur Elise. Stepping into the bridge, where it seems Joker has become part of the very ship, Shepard asks, "What's with the music?"

Without looking around, Joker replies, "Hailstorm thought it'd be a hoot to buy herself a keyboard...and then hook it up to the ship's PA system." Shaking his head, Joker finally looks at Shepard. With a single glance, he notes the unbuttoned uniform and the look in Shepard's eyes. "We shipping out again?" he predicts.

Shepard nods. "I don't like to cancel leave, but there's a potential problem with an Alliance colony in the Traverse..."

Joker snorts laughter, "_A potential problem,_" he drawls. "_In the Traverse._ So it's business as usual?"

"How long 'til we ship out?"

"Adams just completed yet another systems check...that man needs to get out more. And I'm aware of the irony in me saying that, so don't even go there."

"What, me?" Shepard deadpans.

"Yeah, anyway, as soon as the last of the troops get back, we can blow this pop stand."

When she arrives in the garage, having divested herself of her dress uniform in her quarters, Shepard notes that Storm, at her new keyboard, has won herself a few admirers. Mike the Requisitions Officer stands beside Private Fredericks. Williams, at her workstation cocks her head to listen. It ain't Wordsworth, she thinks, but damn the LT can play.

Storm sits at the keyboard, eyes half closed and a fawaway look on her face as her hands and fingers move gracefully up and down the keyboard. The tune comes to an end and the few onlookers applaud. Storm smiles. "Thank you, thank you. I'll be here all week." Just now seeing the Commander, she says, "Commander, hey. Any requests?"

With a smirk, Shepard replies, "Can you do Chopsticks?"

Storm sighs and rubs the bridge of her nose. "Commander, I learned to play that when I was four." With a roll of her hazel eyes, Storm dutifully plays the old chestnut.

Coming to a halt again, Storm stands up behind the keyboard, powers it down and folds it away, stowing it in her locker. It's a tight fit but Storm manages to get the instrument settled in alongside her sidearm and sniper rifle. The small crowd drift away to their duties and Storm steps up to the Commander. "What's the word?"

Shepard leans against the hull of the Mako and Storm joins her, arms folded over her chest. "We're going into the Traverse."

"Oh joy of joys," Storm mutters. "Let me guess, colony not phoning home?"

Shepard merely nods and Storm sighs. This happens far too often and, most times, people back home hardly hear of it. It's only when the large, well established colonies like Eden Prime or Mindnoir get reamed that people sit up and take notice. "Which colony is it?"

Eyes closed, Shepard summons up a mental image of the briefing notes. "Aurion, in the Hera system."

Storm's eyes narrow in thought. "Aurion?"

"Apparently it's Greek for dawn or something."

"No, not that. Apparently, the star at the heart of the Hera system has a lot of sunspot activity at the moment...big increase in electromagnetic radiation, gamma rays, X-rays, all that fun stuff. Could be playing merry hob with the colony's comm systems."

Shepard nods, considering this. "Of course, any half-awake pirate band could use the communications blackout to launch a series of raids, knowing the colony can't call for help."

Pushing herself away from the M35 Storm says dryly, "You're just a little ray of sunshine, aren't you, Shepard?"

**A/N: **I think the idea of yanking the power cable on the AI has been done before but I think the idea of solving that particular problem by yanking the plug is pretty funny. Also, Aurion - new dawn or something, is also a model of car in Australia. I've driven it. I don't much like it. Too damn big and hard to park. That and it has the park brake mounted in the floor instead of between the front seats where most people would expect to find it.


	3. Gravity

**3. Gravity**

Shepard dreamed that she was floating. Lying on her back and floating high above everything. It felt so incredibly _real_ - she could even feel individual strands of her hair floating upwards from her scalp and gently waving as though she were underwater, could feel the sensation of her clothes against her skin. An insistent buzzing intruded into the dream; Shepard realised it was her alarm clock - she'd set it to go off an hour before the _Normandy_ was due to pass through the mass relay and into the Hera system.

Still half asleep and with her head still half in the dream, Shepard rolled over on the bed and her hand slapped down on the alarm clock.

Only it didn't.

Her hand passed through empty air and the movement caused her to spin lazily in mid-air.

Mid...air.

"What the _hell?_" Shepard blurted out as her eyes snapped open. Even given the dimly lit quality of her quarters, Shepard could tell something was very badly wrong. She was floating above her bed. So either she was still dreaming...

"Ow!" Shepard gasped in pain as she pinched herself, hard. So she wasn't dreaming. That meant...Shepard pressed a hand to the side of her head and keyed her comm implant. "Adams?"

"Commander," the professional-sounding voice of her chief engineer calmed her a little.

"Is it just me or are we experiencing some issues with the A-grav system?" As she spoke, Shepard slowly rotated through the empty air over her bed. The hem of the tank top she wore to bed floated gently above her waist. An errant thought occurred to her - zero G porn. She could make a mint renting out her quarters in their current state to sleazoid film makers.

"We were just about to inform you, Commander," Adams said, bringing her back to the present. "There's an...irregularity with the Tantalus core."

"Oh, is that what you call it when I wake up floating in _mid air?_ An _irregularity?_" Shepard scratched vigorously at her scalp. Suddenly her head itched abominably.

Adams sounded apologetic, "We're running diagnostics, Commander. We should have a handle on things shortly."

Shepard closed the connection and sighed. Now for the laborious job of getting dressed in zero-G.

---

"You ever have this happen before, Sir?" Hailstorm asks Adams. The engineering section of the frigate is quite crowded at present - every member of the engineering staff and every crewman who knows which end of a wrench to hold has been drafted to assist with first diagnosing the cause of the loss of gravity and, more importantly, getting the A-grav back online.

"Once when I was serving on the _Tokyo_. And that was _after_ we'd taken a round amidships from an enemy cruiser. This...this random loss of power is something new."

"Fan-bloody-tastic," Hailstorm mutters, maneuvering herself as close to the deck as possible and planting the soles of her magnetised boots to the floor. Her feet contact the decking with a muted thud and each footstep is an ungainly effort as she has to wrench her foot free of the embrace between metal and boot whilst maintaining her upright stance in the null-gravity. Her hair floats about her face like a constantly shifting blonde halo and the various diagnostic tools arrayed along her tool belt kept wanting to escape.

Unbidden, the words of an old rock song come to mind: _It's only gravity _and she laughs aloud, drawing questioning looks from the rest of the engineering staff. Still chuckling, Storm activates her omni-tool and opens a panel set into the port bulkhead behind which lies a diagnostics panel. Fingers of her right hand dancing above the amber-glowing omni-tool interface surrounding her left forearm, Storm runs a basic diagnostic pattern - start with the most obvious things first and work outward.

Much to her surprise, the most basic diagnostic check reveals a faulty control panel buried deep within the innards of the drive core.

"Adams?" she says, looking up from her work. The chief engineer turns to face her, right hand steadying himself against the bulkhead.

"What have you found?"

"Well, I have good news and bad news. Good news is that the fault's with a single circuit board."

Adams nods, pleased. "What's the catch?"

Storm tilts her head in the direction of the eezo core. "Bad news is we'll practically have to dismantle _that_ just to get at the circuit in question."

Adams utters a string of profanity-laced invective the likes of which Storm has never heard. And he seems so calm and easy going on the outside. When the outburst subsides, Adams takes a breath and says, "Alright! You heard the lady, I want everybody to pull up the schematics of the core and get to work. And for God's sake, we don't want any parts left over when we're done, OK?"

The engineering team nod attentively. Left over parts would be bad.

---

Shepard was fuming. Storm and company were waist-deep inside the Tantalus core and the marine squads were currently floating around the ship about as useless as fake tits on a husk.

Flight Lieutenant Jeff "Joker" Moreau was loving every minute of the situation. No gravity meant no pressure on his limbs and no pain when he moved. Sure, he had to be careful that his braced legs didn't inadvertently bang against the bulkheads as he pulled himself through the ship but that was SOP in any case. Simply being able to _be_ without feeling as though his legs would fracture was one of the most joyous things he'd ever known.

It was better than sex. Well, almost.

As he passed through the mess, he crossed paths with Shepard who took one look at him and all but snapped, "What are _you_ so happy about?" and on the heels of that, before he could even respond to her initial outburst, "Why aren't you flying the ship?"

Smirking, Joker answered, "It's a great day to be alive Commander. And to answer your second question, with the drive core off-line, all we're doing is drifting and the automatics can handle things for now."

The Commander folded her arms over her chest and floated up towards the ceiling. "Well, I just hope the automatics don't go the way of the drive core or we're all screwed. Dismissed."

"Commander," Joker acknowledged, touching two fingers to his forehead in salute.

---

It takes the better part of an hour, but finally, the engineers gain access to the suspect circuit board. The board is very ordinary-looking to have caused so much trouble.

"We spent an hour digging around in the drive core for _this?_" Storm says in exasperation. Wearily she arms sweat from her brow, smearing lubricants from the Tantalus across her forehead. "Alright," she says over her shoulder to Adams, "I'm extracting the board now." Delicately, the Lieutenant grips the edge of the circuit board, wiggles it back and forth until it pops free of its slot and hands it back to Adams. As Adams leaves the engine room, heading towards the fabrication unit in the garage, Storm begins the tiresome chore of getting herself back_ out_ of the core. She can almost feel the gazes of the male crew on her butt as she crawls backwards on hands and knees, before being able to stand upright again on her magnetised boots.

Placing her hands at the base of her spine, Storm arches and stretches her back, feeling her vertebrae crack and pop. As she straightens up, the doors connecting the engine room to the garage open and Adams steps through, holding a freshly fabricated circuit board. This he hands to Storm. Hailstorm takes one look at the circuit board in her stained hands, glances back at the core and shakes her head.

"Pierson!" she calls out to a junior crewman. _Praise God for crew members more junior than I am_ she thinks and smiles sweetly as Serviceman First Class Pierson steps to attention on magnetised feet. "Be a dear and install that will you?" Pierson glances at the core then back at his superior before accepting the circuit board.

"I probably should have sent him in the first time," Storm muses to herself, wiping her hands clean on an oil-stained rag. Pierson stands at just over average height and might weigh sixty kilograms soaking wet. Soon enough, the slim, wiry Serviceman returns in triumph. Storm turns to Adams, "We should be ready to power up the A-grav, Sir," she reports.

Adams nods and keys his comm.

---

Shepard floated above the galaxy map inside the CIC, a hand gripping a railing prevented her from drifting off. Her comm unit bleeped and she pressed her free hand to her ear. "Talk to me."

Adams' voice spoke in her ear, "We've repaired the drive core, Ma'am, and we're ready to power up the A-grav."

"Good work, Adams. Pass along my thanks to the engineering staff. I'll alert the crew."

Pushing off from the galaxy map, Shepard floated forward until she reached the bridge and keyed the PA system. "Attention crew. The engineering staff have repaired the A-grav system and are about to restore gravity."

The _Normandy_'s crew was too disciplined to cheer or applaud but Shepard knew the temptation would be there. For Shepard, novelty of zero-G had worn off after about fifteen minutes. Which was about the time it had taken her to get dressed whilst floating upside down and drifting into the bulkheads.

"All crew are ordered to return to their stations and strap in. That is all."

In the mess, Joker sighed. Well, it'd been fun while it lasted but if he was caught away from his specially designed flight seat when the weight of the world crashed back in on his fragile skeletal system, he would be in a world of hurt. As fast as was safe and practicable, Joker turned and headed back towards the sanctuary that was the bridge, silently praying that Adams wouldn't just dump the full one gee on the crew, instead of dialing it back in gradually.

Heart beating a little too loudly in his chest and respiration a little too fast for his liking, Joker returned to the place he felt most at home without incident and pulled the restraints across himself.

The ship-wide comm system came to life and the slightly husky tones of Lieutenant Storm rang forth confidently. "Attention crew. We're powering up the A-grav in three...two...one..."

As Storm spoke the last word, Joker felt more than heard the subtle hum of power throughout the ship deepen slightly as the artificial gravity system spun back into life. Hailstorm was cranking up the G slowly, Joker noticed with approval. "Point three G...point five G...point seven-five...and we're there. Thanks for you patience, crew," Storm said cheerfully, "And thank you for flying Alliance Spaceways." Joker smirked as, in the background, he heard the dry chuckle of Adams.

Settling back in his seat, Joker keyed Pressly. "Hey, Pressly, have those monkeys you call navigators got the jump sequence loaded into the nav systems?"

Pressly refused to rise to Joker's bait. "Don't worry your pretty head, Moreau, we'll hold our end up."

"Awww, you think I'm pretty? That's so _sweet!"_ Joker's voice rose in a falsetto on the last word and he cut the connection. Always get in the last word.

Pressly just shook his head as he unstrapped himself from his seat and stood up. Turning to face the Commander who stood gazing into the galaxy map, he reported, "We're ready to carry on into the mass relay on your orders, Ma'am."

For a moment, Shepard said nothing and Pressly could see the swirl of star systems reflected in the depths of her eyes. Then she blinked and looked at him, "Very good, Pressly. We've lost enough time already. Go."

Orders were given and carried out and _Normandy_ disappeared through the mass relay in a silent burst of blue-white light.

**A/N:** Song credit - Gravity by The Superjesus. Which actually isn't a song about zero gravity, oddly enough. :P


	4. Already Gone

**4. Already Gone**

When she arrived in-system amidst a blaze of light, the _Normandy_ was greeted by a riotous display of electromagnetic radiation from the G-class sun that gave life to the Hera system. The frigate engaged its stealth system, masking her own EM emissions but, given the sensor-scrambling nature of the solar activity, any ship in the system was as good as invisible. This sobering thought was not lost on the _Normandy's_ commanding officer. Of course, given the vast distances involved in space flight, a ship would have to relatively close for its crew to get eyes on a target. Of course this worked against the _Normandy_ as well. If there were hostile craft out here, they could almost pass each other by without noticing.

"Hera colony, this is SSV _Normandy_," Joker spoke into the comm, already knowing it was a wasted effort. From the moment the frigate had exited the mass relay into the Aurion system, it had been bombarded by a storm of electromagnetic radiation from the local star. Sunspot and solar wind activity were at peak levels and the waves of radiation washing out from the star made even relatively short-range comm traffic impossible.

Waves of static crashed through the comm channel, sounding much like the oceans of the planet below crashing against the shores.

Hera was a world extremely similar to Earth - large blue seas and oceans covered over half of the globe and the rest was dominated by large continents and countless island chains. The atmosphere was an almost-perfect match to Earth's as well. Minus the layers of smog and the ungodly large hole in the ozone layer. Along with Eden Prime, Hera was a paradise of a world. The only thing that detracted from its charms was the teensy little issue about its proximity to the Terminus Systems and the ever-present threat from pirates and slaver bands meant colonist enrolment was low. This was despite spin doctoring from Colonial Affairs on Earth trumpeting about the 'frontier spirit of adventure!'

"I say again, this is the SSV _Normandy_, colony, please respond."

Joker touched a finger to the comm system, "Commander, I got nothing. It _could_ just be the EM interference but..." he trailed off.

"The unscheduled arrival of an Alliance frigate should have sparked _some _response from their defence grid," Shepard responded from her place in the CIC. Once more she stared into the space beyond the galaxy map, as though she could divine a reason as to why there was a complete lack of response from the colony that _didn't _involve a total massacre at the hands of batarian raiders. Absently, she rubbed her left hand over her injured shoulder, feeling the dull ache there. Storm had really done a number on her, she thought, a rueful smile tugging the corners of her mouth upward.

This was going to be problematic, she mused. The comm system of the Mako lacked the signal strength to be able to punch through the background radiation in order to contact the ship, effectively cutting off the shore party from support. She _could_ order the ship to ground at the colony spaceport, which would make establishing contact between shore team and ship easier but the thought of leaving the _Normandy_ so vulnerable left Shepard cold.

But, unable to think of any other workable solution, Shepard left the CIC and left to brief her marine squad.

---

Private Paul Fredericks sits at the mess hall table, poring studiously over an English to Russian phrasebook. The Private wears a look of intense concentration, and the tip of his tongue protrudes slightly from the corner of his mouth.

Off to one side, Williams and Hailstorm observe him quietly. "What _is _he doing?" Williams asks quietly as Fredericks lips move silently. Storm shrugs slightly and steps over to the table to find out. Williams falls in behind her.

"Fredericks?" Storm asks. The private puts down the book and and turns to her, "Da?" he asks, which Storm knows means yes? Secretly, Hayley prides herself on being more than a pretty face. After all, one doesn't reach the rank of First Lieutenant and be able to hack encrypted systems by being the stereotypical dumb blonde. Also, her breasts aren't nearly large enough for her to pass as a blonde bombshell.

"Whatcha doin?" Williams says next.

His ready supply of fluent Russian apparently exhausted, Fredericks replies in English, "I'm learning Russian, Chief."

Storm nods as though this makes perfect sense to her. It doesn't. Widespread use of universal translators mean most people don't bother to learn to speak a second language fluently. Or even a first one. Still, being able to converse without the means of a translator is well regarded.

"OK...why?" Williams asks. Truthfully, Fredericks has never struck her as the kind of person to actually bother himself with learning a second language. Unless it's to learn how to ask "Where's the nearest whorehouse?" in five different languages.

A goofy-looking grin appears on Fredericks' face as he explains. "You _seen_ some of those Russian girls, Chief? My God! Those Eastern European chicks..." he shakes his head as his train of thought derails, most likely the result of him picturing himself bowling over young Russian ladies with his masterful command of the language.

"So what you're saying is, you want to speak Russian so you can pick up chicks?" Storms says, eyebrows raised. Not that she's one to talk. In high school, she took French classes because the teacher was just so _hot._ Ten years older than she was at the time but still....

Fredericks nods enthusiastically, "Da!" he says and goes back to his book.

"Well, good luck with that," Storm says, fighting an amused smile.

Booted footsteps on metal decking ring out as their CO approaches from the CIC. "Good, everybody's here already," she begins as the marines present salute.

"Due to the extreme levels of EM interference, we can't raise the colony on the horn."

Storm nods; this is what she expected. Shepard continues, "Storm, your team," she gestures to include Williams and Fredericks, "Will drop in the Mako. Scout out the spaceport and when it's secure, we'll land the _Normandy. _I don't like the idea of parking the most advanced ship in the galaxy right where any raiders can find her but this interference will make ground to space comms impossible. So." Shepard shrugs awkwardly.

"Understood, Commander," Storm says.

"OK, dismissed," Shepard says, then, "I'm off to the medbay to plead my case to Chakwas. I'm finding out what's happening here, shoulder or no shoulder."

---

The Volkov sniper rifle Storm held in her slim hands was a thing of beauty, for those able to appreciate such things. Lighter than its apparent bulk suggested, the weapon's design included an integrated sound and flash suppressor, making it ideal for operations where stealth took precedence over ludicrously over the top displays of firepower. Which was Williams' and Fredericks' job in any case.

Deploying the weapon into its combat configuration, Storm looked it over and, finding no flaws, slammed a block of ballistic compound into the receiver before collapsing the weapon and clipping it to the hardpoint on the back of her hardsuit. Next, she took sidearm from its place inside her locker and repeated the procedure - inspection, slamming in of ballistic compound into receiver, clipping to hardsuit. A quick check of her omni-tool interface confirmed that her Mantis hardsuit was in full working order. Unsure what opposition to expect on the planet below, Storm removed a metallic grey ammunition case from the locker and keyed it open. From within she took an ammunition load specifically designed for organics and one for synthetics. "Something for every one," she murmured to herself with a smile and secreted the spare ammo blocks in her thigh pockets.

Finally, the Lieutenant attached a basic field med kit to her armour. The kit included several medigel injectors as well as bandages and a few units of saline solution. Though her initial training hadn't covered much in the way of the treatment of battlefield injuries, Dr Chakwas had given Storm something of a crash course in how to stabilise the wounded until a fully equipped medbay became available. In her spare time, Storm practiced giving herself intravenous saline injections. She shuddered at the thought - the whole needle in the vein thing creeped her out but she'd stuck with it and was now at the point where she'd actually trust herself to handle an intravenous feed in an emergency.

Storm closed the locker, after a final brief look at the holograph of her family affixed to the inside of the door and turned to the Mako. Gunnery Chief Williams and Private Fredericks were already there, leaning against the six-wheeled infantry fighting vehicle and talking in low tones. They straightened up and came to attention as the Lieutenant arrived.

Storm's eyes met each of theirs briefly, "We good to go?" They both nodded.

---

It's a clean drop and the Mako plummets to earth before a computer-controlled burn from the underbody-mounted plasma jets slow their descent so that, when they land, it won't be in messy pieces spread over a wide area. Worryingly, the spaceport seems completely deserted. There are no workers loading or unloading ships, and no marines on security detail either.

Surveying things from the command chair in the cramped cockpit of the Mako, Hailstorm observes, "The only thing missing is a windblown tumbleweed rolling across the landing pad to give this place the perfect aura of desolation."

From the crew compartment behind her, Fredericks blurts, "Guh?"

"Never mind," she replies as she shuts down the vehicle's fusion engine. With the engine off, the silence is near absolute with only the sound of a gentle breeze rustling the leaves of nearby trees. Storm unbuckles the five-point harness and hits the door release; the cockpit hatch sighs open on pneumatic struts as crew compartment door slides open with a metallic whine.

Quickly the shore team assemble at the front of the vehicle with weapons drawn. It's a picture-perfect summer's day here on Aurion - the sun is shining, puffy white clouds drift peacefully across the azure blue of the sky and the shore team's helmet pickups transmit the sound of birdcalls from the nearby trees bordering the spaceport.

The whole thing gives Hayley the creeps. Big time. There are no bodies, no burned-out buildings, nothing to suggest anything untoward has occurred here. It's almost as if...

"It's as if a black hole opened up and swallowed the colony," Storm says as she leads the squad away from the Mako.

Williams nods, dark-eyed gaze roaming across the landscape. Her hands tighten down on her assault rifle's grip and she makes a conscious effort to loosen her fingers. "I read about this old sailing ship in school? The _Marie Celeste?_ It was found drifting in the middle of the ocean and nobody was aboard."

Storm frowns, "There has to be _somebody_ around here. Keep your eyes and ears open."

"Roger that," Fredericks replies.

---

In low orbit over the colony, Shepard stood in the cockpit behind Joker's position. The frigate was operating in stealth mode, her emissions trapped within the sinks integrated into her hull. As far as anybody on the ground was concerned, _Normandy_ wasn't even there. The high-gain digital cameras mounted in the ship's nose were currently trained on the shore party, zoom levels cranked to maximum, rendering the resulting image grainy and distorted but it was better than nothing.

Shepard watched the monitor intently, waiting for the all clear signal. Eventually, a brilliant green-white flare burst into being high above the shore team.

The Commander nodded decisively. "Take us down, Joker."

The helmsman nodded and with deft touches on his control consoles, brought the frigate around on an approach vector.

On the ground, the shore team finally saw something that, horrific as it was, provided some comfort in its familiarity.

"LT," Williams called out, pointing out something in the near distance. "Dragon's teeth."

Storm's mouth compressed into a thin bloodless line. The metallic spikes, used by the geth to impale people and transform them into cybernetic 'husks' had all retracted into themselves, a sign that the transformations had already taken place. "Dammit....OK at least we know what we're dealing with. That just leaves the small matter of where the bloody hell are the colonists?"

An inhuman scream answered her question at the same time as a number of red blips flashed up on the holographic HUD on the inside of her helmet visor.

"Contact!" Storm said loudly as several groups of husks, skin grey and withered and marked with blue cybernetic implants and circuitry shambled out from behind a row of low-slung storage buildings at the edge of the port. Something about the husks at the forefront struck Storm as off, even more so than husks normally were but she put the thought in the back of her mind as she fell into a firing stance and brought up her sidearm.

Williams and Fredericks opened up with controlled bursts of gunfire, felling several of the cybernetic beings and knocking back more.

Still the husks pressed forward, mouths gaping open and emitting groans and screams that made the hair on the back of the Lieutenant's neck stand on end.

"Williams," she called out as the squad fell back, "Frag grenade, now!"

Williams nodded and disengaged the safety on the assault rifle's under-barrel launcher. "Fire in the hole!" she yelled and launched a 30mm HE round into the midst of the husks. The grenade detonated with a _crump_, sending husks and dismembered body parts flying back. Williams pumped the slide on the launcher, feeding another round from the tubular magazine into the breech but for now, the area seemed clear.

Keeping her rifle trained on the bodies ahead of them, Williams flicked a glance at her HUD. "Negative contacts, LT."

"Good work, Chief. Cover me, I'm taking a look over here." Without waiting for a reply from Williams Storm crossed to where the closest of the bodies lay, flesh torn and shredded by the gunfire and grenade fragments and pulled up short. Unaware she was doing it, Storm shook her head in disbelief, attempting to negate what she saw before her.

The face of the husk had four eye sockets. The surplus pair were located in the high forehead above the others. Also the skin on this particular husk was a washed out brown rather than the grey she was familiar with. "Chief, Private, you wanna come up and look at this?"

Williams and Fredericks jogged up to stand beside Hailstorm and looked down at the body at her feet. Williams crouched down, frowning at the body.

"Is that..."

"Batarian?" Fredericks supplied. "No way," he breathed. Then, "_Nyet."_

"Da," Storm muttered without looking up. "God damned batarians _and _geth." Turning to face her subordinates, she reached up to the throat of her hardsuit, disengaging the locking collar. Storm removed the helmet and let it dangle in her hand by the chin strap, allowing herself to enjoy the breeze in her sweat-dampened hair. Batarians...the last time she faced them, things hadn't ended well. Her entire unit gone except for herself and Corporal Carver. Best not to think about that now. Putting the old feelings firmly back in their box in the far reaches of her mind, Hailstorm focused herself on the current situation.

"OK, here's what I think went down," she began. "The batarians show up looking to take advantage of the comm blackout and do a little smash and grab, right?"

The soldiers nodded agreement. "But the geth were either already here or showed up and crashed the party and, seeing no difference between humans and the four-eyes, thought, _hey let's kill 'em all and let god sort 'em out."_

Fredericks toed a nearby corpse, "This one used to be a Marine. It's still wearing parts of the hardsuit."

"So now we know what happened to the garrison," Williams said dejectedly. It was Eden Prime all over again only this time they'd arrived too late to save anybody. Feelings of anger and mounting rage built in the young woman and she fought hard with herself to maintain some semblance of control. Voice shaking slightly with suppressed emotion, Wiliams asked the LT, "Orders?"

Before the officer could answer, the very air seemed to shake with a roar as the _Normandy_ flew low overhead like some immense bird of prey out of the mists of myth and legend. Expertly guided by Joker, the sleek craft paused above the spaceport landing apron, wash from the maneuvering thrusters blasting leaves and small branches from the nearby trees. The frigate settled to the ground and at once the loading ramp in her belly swung down, the lip meeting the landing pad with a gentle nudge.

Shepard strode down the ramp, in full armour, sidearm gripped in her left hand. From the set of her mouth and eyes as she approached them, Storm could see she was still feeling the ache from her shoulder injury. Dr Chakwas would not be amused.

"Sitrep," Shepard addressed Hailstorm, her keen gaze moving past the shore team, taking in the husks before returning to meet Storm's eyes.

"We got geth, Ma'am," Hailstorm replied, half turning to point out the mangled corpses behind them. "That and batarians." She nodded as Shepard's right eyebrow arched upwards in surprise; beyond that her face remained impassive.

"Come look at this," Storm led the Commander to the huskified batarians.

Shepard knelt before the body and looked it over for several seconds. "Bastards got what they had coming to them," she eventually said, voice flat. Straightening up, she surveyed the surrounding landscape, the gently rolling hills in the distance covered with forests, the highest peaks capped with snow. "Where are the geth themselves?"

"Unknown," Hailstorm said, voice betraying unease. Unknown variables tended to get people very dead very quickly.

Williams put in a suggestion, "Maybe they've already left?"

"Any sign of civilians?" Shepard queried, already knowing the answer. If anybody was around, the sound of armed combat should have roused their presence. Or maybe they were keeping well hidden.

"Nothing so far, they _could _be hiding out in those sheds over there," Storm nodded towards the nearest of the long, low-roofed storage sheds. From here she could see that the door controls burned a bright red, indicating the maglocks were engaged. So either the colonists had a problem with people looting their farm equipment or..."There might be people hiding in there," the Lieutenant voiced the collective thought.

Replacing her helmet and locking it into place, Storm faced the Commander. "Orders, Ma'am?"

Shepard shook her head. "I'm here strictly as an observer. I practically had to make a deal with the devil just to get Chakwas to let me suit up at all. I'll be monitoring things from the ship. I don't like to tempt fate but it looks as though this party had already wrapped up before we arrived."

"Something here isn't right here, Skipper," Williams said, feeling the fine hairs on the nape of her neck rise. "It's too _clean. _After the geth hit Eden Prime, there were corpses and burned-out buildings everywhere. I can sorta see the geth pulling out their dead comrades and the husks probably account for the marines but..."

Shepard inclined her head towards the buildings nearby. "Check them out. I'll return to the ship and monitor things. This close, we shouldn't have any problems with our comm gear."

Storm nodded and her troops fell in behind her.

---

The locked door of the building yields quickly to Storm's ministrations. As the door slides open with a slight rumble, voices from inside call out, "Don't shoot! Don't shoot! We're civilians!"

The corner of Storm's mouth quirks upward. "Well, I wasn't really planning to but thanks for the reminder." _You've been hanging around Shepard for too long; her sense of humour is rubbing off on you._

The lights inside the storage shed are off and from the shadows emerge a man and a woman, both in their mid-twenties wearing jeans and light denim jackets. Storm notes the physical similarities between them - same dark hair and eyes and same stance and figures them to be siblings. The man wears several days' worth of black stubble on his face and Storm can see from the haunted look in their eyes that neither of them have probably slept in a while.

The woman speaks first and Storm notes the English accent, "You're with the Alliance?" Storm nods and the woman's slim shoulders slump as she almost collapses with relief. The man keeps her upright. "Thank God! When the solar activity flared up and the comms went down, we knew it wouldn't be long until raiders appeared. We thought we'd have more time to prepare though. The others got to the vault in time but we....didn't."

Williams speaks up, "Wait, vault?"

The man speaks next, "Yes, it's like a giant underground fallout shelter. In case of...you know."

"Total nuclear war?" Fredericks suggests. The civilians just eye him bemusedly.

The woman explains, "After Mindnoir and then Eden Prime, the colony petitioned the Alliance for funds to build what's basically a giant underground bomb shelter for just this kind of attack. We have supplies enough to last us for months, or until help arrives."

Storm's eyes widen as the full import of the colonists' words sink into her - the civilians were safe. And the Marines..."The garrison troops bought the colonists time to get to the vault," she realises, feeling sad for their loss. "Excuse me a moment," Storm says and turns away to comm Shepard. Even with the _Normandy_ practically next door, the comm channel is filled with that crashing waves sound. "Shore party to _Normandy_ Actual, come in."

Seconds tick by then, "This is Shepard. Go ahead, Lieutenant."

"We've found a couple of survivors and they tell us the rest of the civilians are holed up in a kind of underground bunker."

When Shepard speaks again, Storm can tell she's smiling her crooked smile, "Well praise Jesus and sing hallejulah. Hold position. I'll rendezvous in ten. Shepard, out."

Storm severs the connection as she turns back to the civilians, expectant looks on their faces. "That was our CO, Commander Shepard."

Even way out here in the boondocks of the galaxy, people have heard of Shepard's exploits and the civvies are all kinds of impressed.

"Wow," the man says. "I wonder if I can get her autograph?"

**A/N:** In case you can't tell, I've played too much Fallout 3. Though, I reason that if houses built in tornado-prone areas have storm cellars under the house, a colony in a batarian-prone area could have a bolthole as well.


	5. Not According to Plan

**5. Not According to Plan**

Things aren't going quite according to plan. The plan was to land, deal with any hostiles (done and done) and ascertain the fate of the colonists (ditto) before riding away into the sunset as heroes, figuratively speaking. Instead, the colonists aren't playing ball. And it's frustrating the hell out of First Lieutenant Storm.

The civilians that she, Fredericks and Williams have located, Abby and Ben have led her squad along with Shepard to the entrance to the underground vault, cunningly concealed amidst a boulder-strewn area several klicks from the spaceport.

Now, the on-planet colonial administrator, Abby and Ben's father, is flatly refusing to go along with the plan to at least temporarily evacuate the civilians.

"Sir, this colony isn't currently safe," Storm attempts to explain. "You have no Marine garrison and the solar activity makes interstellar communication impossible. It's really for the best if you allow the colony to be evacuated."

The colonial administrator, Thomas Barnes stands arms akimbo. "Leftenant, we Aurians did not get where we are today by abandoning our little piece of the galaxy at the first sign of trouble and we're not about to start now."

Barnes is backed up by a chorus of murmured approvals and much nodding of heads.

Helplessly, Storm turns to Shepard who has been silent since entering the vault, content to let her squad second handle negotiations. "A word, Ma'am?" Storm asks quietly. Shepard nods and the officers step out of earshot of the colonists, footfalls echoing dully from the metal walls and floor.

"You have to admire the craftsmanship of these vault walls," Shepard muses, rapping her armoured fist against a wall, eliciting a hollow bonging noise. "I can see their point, actually. They spent who knows how many tens of millions of creds building all this and for us to ask them to leave? Yeah, I wouldn't be too thrilled with the idea either."

"Commander, it's not safe," Storm counters. "It's only a matter of time before raiders make a concerted enough search of the area and find the entrance. Then it'd be like shooting fish in a barrel. Only messier."

Shepard nods and, for a moment, Storm thinks she's convinced the Hero of the Citadel to back her up. "We're letting them stay."

"_What?"_ Hailstorm blurts, shocked. Several pairs of eyes, Fredericks' and Williams' among them turn in her direction. "Commander, with respect-" Shepard cuts her off with a raised hand and Storm subsides.

"We can't make them leave, Hayley," Shepard says gently. "For better or worse, this is the decision they've made and, from the looks of this place, nothing short of a direct hit from a tactical nuke can breach the walls from outside."

The Lieutenant's brow furrows and her lips compress into a narrow bloodless line. "I'm formally lodging my protest at this decision, Commander," she eventually says. Shepard just nods, "Duly noted, Lieutenant."

Arms folded across her chest, Storm replies, "What now?"

Shepard tilts her head in the direction of the assembled colonists. "I use my Spectre priority clearance to request a cruiser and frigate wolfpack to provide cover for the system until a new garrison unit arrives." When Shepard next speaks, she addresses Storm directly. "I know you have reservations, Lieutenant and I admire you for standing by your convictions but from here, this looks like a win for us. The colonists are safe, the immediate threat has been repulsed and, from a political standpoint, we score brownie points with the Citadel races for taking care of business ourselves without relying on them for aid."

Despite herself, a smirk tugs at the corners of Storm's lips, "Always working the angles, Commander?"

Shepard nods, "And then some."

**A/N:**The resolution may not appeal to everybody but I drew inspiration from the bushfires that happened recently in Victoria. Basically, people in high-risk areas were saying they should have the choice to stay and defend their properties rather than have the authorities evacuate them. I'm thinking I might expand this later with another mini-fic on a different subject, if/when inspiration strikes me.

As always, feedback is appreciated.


	6. The Fix

**A/N:**I'd like to try taking things in a different direction now. Instead of a coherent plot (plots? who needs 'em?) I have in mind a series of unrelated scenes similiar to my work in the Days of Our Normandy Lives fics. Only with the wacky dialed back about ninety percent.

**The Fix**

**Welcome to InstallerBot V 1.2346**

**The installation wizard will guide you through the installation process for**

**FIRE_CONTROL_SYSTEM_UPGRADE_V3.51**

**Do you wish to continue? Y/N**

**Y**

**I have read and understand the End User License Agreement Y/N**

**Y**

**Running installation wizard...**

**Unpacking files...**

**Warning: The following file boom_ not found. Unable to continue installation.**

**Retry/Cancel?**

"Oh you motherless son of a _bitch!" _Hailstorm hissed through her teeth as the upgrade to the Mako's fire control system that she had been attempting to install for the last hour crashed. Yet again. For the tenth time in a row.

Sighing, Hayley sat back on the ammo crate she was using as a seat, shoulders slumped. She'd inherited the care and feeding of the troublesome M35 from Garrus Vakarian, a turian former C-Sec officer who had served alongside Shepard during the hunt for Saren. The Mako had been Garrus' baby, from all accounts. Apparently, the turian had found working on the vehicle to be relaxing. After Garrus had been accepted into the Spectres following a glowing recommendation from Shepard, responsibility for the upkeep of the Mako had been laid on the Lieutenant's slender shoulders.

A task which had conclusively proven to _not_ be relaxing. Far from being relaxed and comfortable, Storm, to borrow a line from the old Earth rock song she'd heard Shepard playing, was _aggravation and rage._

Tiredly rubbing the bridge of her nose, Hayley muttered, "I have advanced degrees in engineering and communications; I will _not_ be beaten by an installer program."

"Problems, LT?"

Storm turned half-around to face the Gunnery Chief who had, up until now, been inventorying the ammunition stocks in the garage. Storm's lips quirked upwards in a tired smile. "The auto-updater won't auto-update and until it does auto-update, the Mako's nothing more than an expensive way of committing suicide. Hell...if I can't get the main gun back online before the next drop, I won't have to worry about the hostiles killing me, Shepard'll do the job for them."

Williams frowned, "Come on, LT. The Skipper's not that bad."

Storm merely held the Chief's gaze for several seconds. "You know that crazy look she gets in her eyes? The one she gets right before using her biotics to throw some poor bastard into the middle of next week? Yeah, I _don't_ want to be on the receiving end of that, thank you very much."

Williams shrugged. "Maybe you should take a break? I'm due for a break in ten, join me in the mess?"

Storm looked from the computer terminal linked to the Mako, to Williams and back. The blinking cursor onscreen seemed to be mocking her futile attempts to update the FCS. Before she could open her mouth to accept the Gunnery Chief's offer, her comm unit bleeped. With a deep breath she unclipped the unit from her belt. "Storm."

---

One of the worst aspects of the Commander's job, aside from facing the grieving families of soldiers who'd died under her command, and dealing with numpties like the Council was writing the after-action reports.

A mind-numbing task made infinitely worse in this case by the fact that the desktop unit in her cabin seemed to have died. Shepard tried to remember the last time she'd saved the file she'd been working on. It had only been in the last ten minutes so that wasn't too bad, she reflected as she gave the computer the three-finger salute.

Nothing. The time honoured ritual of simultaneously pressing Ctrl Alt Del yielded no positive results.

Annoyed, Shepard hit the reset button. Instead of the expected sound of the drives spooling up, all she received was a high pitched _bleeep._

Shepard closed her eyes, took a deep breath, held it for several heartbeats before releasing it, and, eyes still closed, hit the reset button a second time.

Again the terminal emitted that high-pitched _bleeep_ that for all the world felt as though somebody was attempting to slide steel skewers through her ears and into her skull.

A realisation dawned on the Commander - the computer's drives were toast. Apparently they'd decided to commit seppuku rather than stand up under the continual onslaught that Shepard put them through. All she had done was to leave the system in standby mode when she wasn't using it, so as to avoid the tedious start-up process. And now _this_.

A further realisation dawned on the Commander - not only had she lost all her reports - including the very one on the now-resolved Aurion situation, she'd also lost her music collection. Sure, _most _of it was safely backed up onto OSDs but some she hadn't yet gotten around to backing up. She sighed and rubbed her eyes. Storm had only told her last week that she needed to be 'more diligent in her back-up routine'

Something in the Commander had bristled at the thought of being told to be more diligent by a woman five years younger than she. It was such a small, petty thing to rebel against and _now_ look at her: sitting before her terminal that was fit only for use as a paperweight. Fetching a long-suffering sigh and feeling the weight of every one of her thirty years settle upon her like a burdensome cloak, Shepard keyed her comm and made ready to eat crow.

"Storm," and from the sound of her voice in the Commander's ear, Hayley wasn't enjoying the most sunny of days either. The thought raised a faint smile on Shepard's lips. Ah, schadenfreude.

"Hayles," Shepard hoped the informal approach might earn her more kudos rather than simply ordering the younger officer up to her quarters. "Got a small issue with my office terminal. I think the drive's died."

A pause. Then, "You _have_ been backing up your data files, Commander?" Storm replied and Shepard felt a stab of guilt at the tiredness carried in her tone.

"Ah...not as such, no."

A strange kind of dull clunk could be heard over the commline and then, faintly in the background, Williams' voice pitched higher than normal in concern over whatever had caused the clunk. "LT? Are you OK?"

"Storm?" Shepard enquired. "What was that sound at your end?"

"That would be the sound of my head hitting the flank of the Mako, Ma'am." A deep intake of breath could be heard over the comm. "I'll be right up."

---

"Hayles," Shepard's voice came over the commline so clearly it was like the woman was right beside her. "Got a small issue with my office terminal. I think the drive's died," the Commander went on. Hayley closed her eyes and mouthed a curse. Eyes still closed she asked, "You _have_ been backing up your data files, Commander?"

_Please please please pl_-

"Ah...not as such, no."

Hayley was suddenly gripped by an incredibly powerful urge to smack her head into the Mako's hull. A dull clunk echoed down the commline and behind her Williams said in what was for her, a shrill voice, "LT? Are you OK?" Storm waved her away, feeling a dull ache in her forehead. How many times had she stressed the importance of maintaining a correct back-up procedure? God, it was like dealing with school children at times. School children who knew eighty different ways to kill a man using only common household items. But still...

Shepard's voice intruded into her thoughts, "Storm? What was that sound at your end?"

Lips twisting into a humourless parody of her usual easy smile, Storm replied, "That would be the sound of my head hitting the flank of the Mako, Ma'am." Storm took another deep breath _Pretty soon you'll begin to hyperventilate and I don't think there's any paper bags around. _"I'll be right up," she finally said, keying off the comm unit. Storm pushed herself up from her ammo crate cum chair and, with a short detour to her locker to procure a rescue OSD full of data-recovery applications, she made for the elevator to the main deck.

Williams watched her leave, waiting until the the elevator doors closed on her before turning her attention to the Mako terminal. Leaning over the screen, Williams read the error message that had set off the LT. "File not found?" the Chief murmured. Not that she believed herself to more technically adept than the just-departed Hailstorm but Williams had an inkling of an idea. What if she _found _the file and copied it to the correct directory? Then, when the LT came back and found the auto-updated had actually auto-updated and that the Mako's main armament was in full working order, wouldn't she be all kinds of relieved? Williams rather thought she would be and, with a smile on her lips and a twinkle in her eye, set about finding that missing file.

---

"Lieutenant Storm reporting as ordered, Commander," Storm said as the door to Shepard's cabin hissed open. Waves of bass-laden music washed over her as Storm entered the room. This close to the small but powerful speakers of Shepard's digital music player, Storm could actually feel the bass signature vibrate through her ribcage. The incipient headache that had been poised behind her eyes the last little while suddenly decided to burst out and say Howdy! And from the feel of things, it had brought a brass band along.

"May I be so bold as to make a request, Commander?" Storm asked through gritted teeth as she seated herself before the terminal. The terminal was emitting the kind of high-pitched _bleeep_ that drove dogs mad and caused birds to fall from their nests, dead.

"What's on your mind, Hayles?" Shepard asked, tapping a foot in time to the music.

"You wanna turn that down a touch? Or better yet, several touches?"

Shepard seemed about to protest but crossed to the player and pressed a button. The silence was deafening. In the sudden absence of sonic fury Storm found she could actually hear the pulse of her blood in her ears.

"OK. Ma'am, I'll try to salvage as much of your file system as I can but..."

"The patient is terminal and the prognosis is dire?" Shepard flippantly asked. Storm rolled her eyes as she nodded. Shepard pretended not to notice the small act of insubordination. "I'll leave you to it, Hayles. Can I get you anything?"

"A Bacardi and cola but I'll settle for a cup of that herbal tea we picked up on the Citadel."

Shepard nodded and left.

---

"Hailstorm, what's up?"

Hayley turned to the requisitions officer as she exited the elevator and stepped into the garage. She'd spent so much of her time down here lately, she considered filing a requisition for a hammock. It'd be more comfortable than the sleeper pods at least.

Mike the Requisitions Officer had seen the drawn look on the Lieutenant as she stepped out of the elevator and felt compelled to ask after her health.

"What day is it, Mike?" Hayley asked, rubbing her forehead. The headache had receded slightly so that it no longer felt as though some cheerful psychopath was hard at work hammering at the inside of her skull with an ice pick.

"Friday, Ma'am. Ship-time," Mike responded after a moment. He gave the officer quick once over. Hailstorm looked a little frazzled but it wasn't his place to say anything.

"Friday. Exactly. You ever notice how often things stop working right before the weekend? Or right after the warranty expires?"

Unsure how to react, Mike simply nodded. Wordlessly the Lieutenant squared her shoulders, pulled herself to her full height and made a beeline for the Mako. The same Mako Mike had seen Williams working on before.

Hailstorm noticed the Gunnery Chief standing by the M35, a small smile flitting across her full lips. _Oh what is it now? _As she stopped by the Mako, she glanced at the monitor and saw something near-miraculous: the auto-updater seemed to have successfully auto-updated.

"Ash? Did you..." she tilted her head towards the vehicle. It sat on the deck, radiating quiet menace.

Williams nodded, no longer fighting the smile. "You seemed so stressed out before that I figured I'd try to help out. I managed to copy that missing file back to where it belonged and, well." she shrugged.

Storm smiled and it was the most radiant thing Williams had seen. "Ash, if it wasn't totally against protocol, I'd kiss you."

Williams shuffled her feet. "An on the mouth kiss? Because an on the mouth kiss would be kinda weird for me, LT."

Storm laughed. "I was thinking on the forehead."

Williams felt absurdly relieved. "On the forehead would be fine, LT."

Storm took the Gunnery Chief by the shoulders and gently kissed her on the forehead. Pulling away she whispered, "Williams, you're lifesaver."

Over the by the elevator, the requisitions officer, having seen the moment of girl-on-girl action, let out a wolf whistle. Williams shot him the finger.

**A/N:** I'm sure I'm not the only one who's had a computer die right before the weekend and had to suck up the wait until Monday to get things fixed. The issue with the auto-updater is inspired by my own issues with patches that just don't want to work.


	7. Angels

**A/N: **Taking a journey into the (for me) mostly uncharted waters of tragedy/angst-land. Yeah, sometimes I like to put my OCs through the wringer. In my mind, Storm's this finely balanced being of strength and vulnerability and who hasn't had to fight against some little voice in their head trying to pull you down and drag you under?

**Angels**

_It's Torfan all over again_ was the one thought that kept repeating in her mind. Repeating incessantly. _It's Torfan. All over again. And guess what, Hayles? I don't think you're gonna make it out this time._

That snide little voice from the reaches of her subconscious had dogged First Lieutenant Storm for most of her career. It was the voice of all her fears and doubts in her own abilities. It second-guessed her every decision and how it loved to point and laugh at her mistakes. In her darker moments, she'd consider resigning her commission and walking away from the career she loved.

In her darkest moments, she heard the traitorous little whore inside her mind urging her to flip off the safety of her sidearm, press the barrel against the side of her head and-

_Dammit, Hayley! Don't let her beat you!_ The voice of her elder brother cut through the Babel in her mind, brought her back around. Made her focus. "Thank you, Julian," Hailstorm whispered so as to not not be heard over the comm.

Screwing her eyes shut for the barest of instants, the young officer fought to find her centre amid the din of the battle around her. Beside her, Williams, Fredericks and Shepard kept up a constant barrage of gunfire as they fought to bring the mercs hired by the red sand dealers to a standstill.

Hazel eyes open once more, Storm raised the stock of her Volkov rifle to her shoulder, sighted through the scope and saw, through the shifting veils of smoke and choking dust, a pair of figures break cover and attempt to flank their position.

_Not on my watch. _Storm took a deep breath of filtered air, let half of it out and stroked the trigger. The weapon recoiled forcefully against her armoured shoulder but she regained her sight picture in an instant. The first merc, a human, was down. The high-explosive round having blown a bloody crater the size of a dinner plate in his torso. The second merc, a spindly looking salarian paused in shock, mottled grey hardsuit splattered with red.

A second round took off his head.

Shepard's voice, perversely amused-sounding amid the carnage spoke in her earpiece, "Nice shootin' Tex." A shotgun blast rang out and the Spectre-issue weapon cut down yet another merc who pressed in too close to the squad's position. They'd been pinned down outside the entrance to the pre-fabricated compound used by the mercs for more than an hour but repeated attempts to rush the Alliance soldiers and finish them off had failed.

"This is getting ridiculous. We can't press forward and they can't push us back," Hailstorm opined over the sudden lull in the battle.

Moving slowly and cautiously, Williams raised her helmeted head over the rocky outcrop they were sheltering behind and found a piece of good cover maybe fifty metres from her current position. If they could get over there, she could cover the LT while she hacked the lock on the door of the compound. Then they could finally take the fight to the drug manufacturers.

"Skipper, I can bunker down by those rocks over there," Williams pointed them out, "And from there, I can cover the LT while she opens the doors."

Shepard nodded, keen blue-eyed gaze sweeping over the terrain before them. Her glance flicked to the HUD displayed in the inside of her helmet, generated by her hardsuit's onboard computers. Zero contacts.

Nodding to Williams, Shepard gave the order, "Do it. Hailstorm, be ready to move when she's secured."

As the Gunnery Chief broke cover, dodging back and forth as she ran to throw off the aim of any potential snipers, PFC Fredericks laid down suppressing fire until his rifle overheated. The enemy appeared to have run out of soldiers to throw at them but he couldn't allow himself to relax yet. A random thought flit through his mind as his weapon cooled enough to recommence firing: _During the First World War most shots were fired with the aim of making the other guy keep his head down so he couldn't shoot back rather than kill him._

Williams was maybe half-way to her chosen cover when the shot rang out.

Time seemed to slow, become elastic. Seemingly in the space between one heartbeat and the next, an eezo signature had appeared on Hailstorm's HUD and before either she or anybody else could react, a shot screamed out, rending the smoke-filled air.

Williams, caught between one running foot-fall and the next jerked, staggered on another half-step and collapsed heavily. She uttered not a sound.

"Ash!" Shepard screamed and pushed herself up and over the rocks before her, intending to brave what was suddenly a kill-zone and attempt to rescue the woman whom she had come to love like the sister she'd never had.

A strong pair of hands grabbed her, pulled her back down. Shepard struggled to free herself from Fredericks' grip and, as the two fought - he was heavier but she was desperate - Hailstorm broke cover and ran hard for the fallen Williams. "Cover me!" she shouted into her helmet mic.

Fully automatic suppressive fire opened up from behind her, keeping the merc pinned down. Shepard's shotgun, relatively useless at long range added its bass thunder to the high-pitched crescendo of the assault rifle.

Much as Williams had, Storm ducked and weaved, imagining holographic targeting reticules locking into her slender form. Her lungs burned as they fought to pull in more oxygen from her suit's supplies. Her muscles ached; suddenly all those hours spent pounding along the treadmill in the _Tokyo's_ gym during her prior posting were paying off. Hayley felt as though she was being propelled along by the wings of angels and her feet barely seemed to touch the barren rocky ground. Just a few more feet...

Gasping for breath, sweat sliding from her hairline and down her face like the tears that threatened to fall from her stinging eyes, Hailstorm slid to a stop beside Williams. The Gunnery Chief lay immobile on her side, one arm flung out before her, fingers forming a weak fist, the other arm cradling her side. Blood, an alarming amount had spread out around her before the medical exoskeleton built into her armour shot her full of coagulants and medi-gel.

With a grunt of effort, Storm took hold of the other woman in a fireman's carry across her shoulders and turned back to Fredericks and Shepard. Mouth set in a grim line, the Lieutenant made the trip back to the relative safety of the rocks that were her only safe harbour. As she drew closer, she could see Shepard shouting something but the words were lost amid the roaring of blood in her ears. It almost looked like her lips were shaping the words

"Get down!"

_Oh no._ Hayley had time to think before what felt like a sledgehammer slammed her between the shoulders and she fell the last few feet. Williams' limp form flew up and over, hitting the ground hard enough to send up little puffs of red dust from the arid ground.

Fading fast, Hayley felt two pairs of hands pull her behind cover just as another round exploded close to her head, slamming slivers of pulverised rock into her helmet.

Pain, unlike anything she'd felt in her life, washed over her as she lay on her back, staring helplessly at the azure sky and cumulus clouds scudding by high overhead. _This isn't so bad, Hayles. If you have to die, at least you can go out looking at pretty clouds when you go. Better that than lying face down in the dirt like poor Ash over there. Ash!_

Aware of the form of Fredericks looming over her, medi-gel hypospray in hand, Hayley dug deep and found the strength to shove his hand away. "Help...Ash," she managed to get out, feeling blood fill her mouth and trickle down her chin.

Fredericks paused. She was the officer and, much as he liked Ash, his training told him to assist the officer first. Hayley was having none of it.

"Help...Ash! That's a...fucking..._order!"_

Fredericks disappeared from view and Hayley's head rolled back to face the pretty clouds.

---

**Sixteen hours earlier**

"So let me see if I have this right," Williams began after Shepard had wrapped up her pre-mission brief. Williams leaned forward in her seat in the comm room aboard the_ Normandy_. Seated beside her Storm arched her back against the seat back and her spine crackled dully.

"Executor Pallin, the same Executor Pallin who just happens to despise the _underhanded,"_ Williams' voice did a fair imitation of the head of Citadel Security and the rest of the squad laughed, "_Spectres_ came to you for help with busting up a red sand production facility?" Williams sat back in her seat, looking faintly shocked.

Shepard rose from her seat and paced the limited floor space. Feet were drawn up against chairs to avoid being stepped on. "Friend Pallin wasn't ecstatic with the idea but C-Sec patrols, acting on a tip-off tracked a freighter to a system right on the edges of the Terminus System. Pallin was iffy about sending in the troops without first letting the Council know."

Hailstorm spoke up, "And the Council wasn't willing to have C-Sec's presence spark a war with the Terminus Systems, especially so soon after the geth invasion."

Shepard nodded, "Right. And since we possess the only working example of stealth technology," a smile twisted the Commander's lips, "And what have the scientists been _doing _all this time, watching asari fetish porn and jerking off?"

"Ewwww!" Williams and Storm said at the same time. Fredericks laughed.

"Anyway, the Executor kindly asked us to go in, real quiet-like and bust things up. Hopefully without upsetting the fragile galactic 'peace,'" Shepard made quotation marks with her fingers.

As the assembled group left the comm room, Fredericks turned to Storm and Williams, "Either of you ever had red sand?"

Smirking, Storm answered, "I'm sure that even if I had, I wouldn't be stupid enough to brag about it within earshot of a Spectre, Private."

Apparently not getting the implied rebuke, Fredericks went on, "I tried it once, a few years back, before I enlisted. Really screws with your mind. I saw all these swirly colours and stuff."

As he left, following the Commander, Williams leaned in towards Storm, "Y'know, LT, that explains a lot about him."

---

The frigate entered the Damascus system at 0010 hours Zulu. As was her custom before a mission, Hayley had recorded a vid-message for her family should the unthinkable happen and she was shipped home in a box draped with the Alliance flag.

It wasn't something she liked to dwell on but sometimes, Bitch-Girl from the depths of her mind would come sauntering out of the shadows, into the light and say, _So, recording another message home, Hayles? That's like, sooo touching, I might cry! You do realise you'e a dead woman walking? What, you didn't? Jesus God! You really are as naively stupid as you look in the mirror. You should have had the good sense to lie down and die with the rest of of you platoon on Torfan but here you are, on the most advanced ship in the fleet. _

_Ask yourself, honey: Do I deserve to be here? Well, DO I?_

With an effort of will, Hayley forced her darker self back into her box and locked it down tight.

"I just wanted to send you guys a quick note before we drop. You know how much I love you all, right? Julian, you tell those beautiful nieces of mine that I'm thinking of them and I'll come visit as soon as I can."

Hayley gave the blinking red eye of the vidrecorder a brave smile and turned if off. Silent tears slid down her cheeks.

She stared as a hand came down on her shoulder and squeezed gently. "Hey, LT. Are you OK?"

Hurriedly Hayley wiped away the tears with the heel of her hand. "Yeah, I'm fine."

Williams looked doubtful. The blonde woman smiled up at her, "Let's go kick some red sand-dealer ass, Williams. What do you say?"

"Oorah!" Williams shouted.

---

Hayley's last thought before darkness claimed her for its own was: _It's the twins' birthday next month. I need to buy something for them._

_Beep...beep...beep_

The shrill, annoying bleeping was the only thing wrong with the paradise Hayley currently found herself in. The place was gorgeous - rolling green hills, towering trees providing ample shade from the sun, ripe fruit hanging from branches. Hayley's teeth bit through the skin of an apple and sweet juice flooded into her mouth. _Oh my God that's good_.

As she crunched the apple, she looked down at herself. Something about her appearance was off. Several somethings, actually. She wasn't wearing her shipboard black and grey fatigues or her Mantis medium hardsuit. Instead she was clad in a diaphanous gown of white that fluttered against her ankles in the breeze. The gentle breeze felt wonderful as it teased her unbound hair.

The other thing that was off was the scarring. Rather, the lack of it. The lightly tanned skin of her right arm was free of the marks left by the shrapnel injuries she'd sustained on Torfan. Already knowing what she'd see and feeling a tickle of unease, Hayley pulled the gown aside from her chest and noted the scarring along her right side and thigh was also gone, leaving only pristine skin.

"What'd I do? Finally cave into vanity and have cosmetic surgery? I _think_ I'd remember doing that."

The voice that answered her was a pleasant surprise. "In this place, everything is perfect, Hayley. Everything is...wonderful."

Hayley didn't know where her brother had come from but here he was, wearing a simple white long sleeved shirt and loose pants. Casting aside the half-eaten apple, Hayley ran to him and threw herself into the circle of his strong arms. She rested her head against the solidity of his shoulder. "Jules!" she gasped, feeling ten years old again. "What are you doing here?"

Her brother stepped away from her, looking grim.

_Beep...beep...beep_. Where _was_ that coming from? Annoyed, Hayley cocked her head to one side and heard, so faintly she convinced herself it was her imagination, a familiar voice.

_"She's still bleeding out from somewhere! Get me another unit of O positive, stat!"_

"You have a choice to make, now, Hayley. You can stay here," Julian gestured around them at the pristine rolling green fields and fruit orchards. "And you'll never again know pain or fear or doubt."

"Awesome!" Hayley quipped. Julian frowned slightly.

"But know that, if you make that choice, you leave behind everybody you know and love. Me, Mum and Dad. Your comrades...the girls."

Hayley frowned now. Leave behind her nieces? For all time? Could she do that to them? Could she leave them behind just so she could enjoy this luxury forever? Could she be that selfish?

_Ah go on, Hayles_ Bitch-Girl whispered slyly. _If you go back, what do you have to look forward to? A painful rehabilitation is the least of your worries, honey. And believe me, you took a hell of a hit just now. It isn't a bullet hole in your back so much as a crater!_

_As for the girls? Hell, they're young! Chances are in a few years, they'll barely be able to remember your face, much less who you are. And really, don't you kinda deserve to die? You know, for not buying the farm on Torfan when you and I both know you really should have?_

Sudden anger sparked in Hayley's hazel eyes. No, not anger. Fury. Utter wrath. "Don't you _ever_ talk about my nieces like that, you fucking whore! I'm going back, damn you! And if you ever stick your nose into my business again, ever, I swear by every saint and angel that ever was, I'll find a way to excise you from my mind! I swear I'll kill you!"

The gorgeous rolling green hills and fruit orchards wavered and disappeared. Before he too vanished, Julian smiled and nodded at his little sister. "I'll see you on the other side, Hayles."

---

_Beep...beep...beep_

The electronic beeping, oh so familiar, was the first thing to impinge upon her drug-induced haze. _Well, this feels familiar. Let's see here,_ with a supreme effort, Hayley twitched her right hand and felt the faint tug of the IV in the back of her hand. _Oh yeah, there it is! And that annoying beeping would be the cheerful sound of your heart still beating! Yay us!_

The next thing to register was a tired-sounding voice, seemingly on the edge of tears, "Hayley?" The voice rose in a shout, "Dr Chakwas! She's waking up! Get in here!"

A very weak smile came into being on her chapped lips. "Shep....ard," she managed to get out through her parched mouth. A gentle hand stroked her forehead as she heard footsteps bustling in. "You're going to be OK, Hayles. D'you hear me? You're gonna be fine!"

The young woman in the medbay never thought she'd see the day but the Commander, the strongest person she'd ever known was openly crying over her. Her.

Fighting against the drugs awash in her system, Hayley managed to ask what was, for her the most important question of all. "Where's...Ash? Did she...did she make it?"

Just before Chakwas guided her away from the bed, Shepard, still crying answered, "Yeah. You saved her life, Hayles. It was a near thing but she pulled through. She said to tell you...that you're like some guardian angel."

That faint, beautiful smile still on her lips, Hayley's eyes slid closed and she slept.


	8. Always Look on the Bright Side

**A/N:**After the admittedly over-the-topness of _Angels_, things mostly settle down a notch as Hailstorm learns to let got of the small stuff. And it's all small.

**Always look on the bright side of life...**

"You realise we should both be dead, LT?" Williams quietly asked Lieutenant Storm.

The pair of Marines stood huddled around Williams' workbench in the _Normandy's _drop bay, inspecting the damage to their respective hardsuits.

A neat hole about the diameter of her thumbnail had been punched through the ablative plating of Williams' heavy-class Hahne-Kedar suit, right over the ribcage.

A considerably less neat hole the size of a child's fist had been punched through the ablative plating between the shoulders of Storm's Mantis medium hardsuit. Looking from the damage wrought by that single round, to the LT's living, breathing form and back again, Williams was secretly convinced she was standing before an actual, honest to God miracle. She fought down an urge to grasp the other woman's hands, just to make sure she was really there at all.

The blonde officer nodded, an incongrously happy smile on her face as she lifted the rear armour plate, poked her fingers through the blood-stained hole and waved them at Williams.

The Gunnery Chief laid her own chest piece back on the bench. Both hers and the LT's suits were write-offs and the Skipper had authorised a side-trip to Arcturus for some downtime and to procure fresh supplies.

"Uh, Ma'am..." Williams began. The LT looked back at her, still smiling slightly. "Are you all right?"

"Never felt better, Ash," Storm sounded incredibly chirpy. "I mean, yeah, the whole shot-in-the-back-and-near-death-experience-with-the-apple-trees was kinda rough but," she shrugged and was still amazed that the muscles there reacted so smoothly, given everything. Chakwas did good work. Damn good work.

"Apple trees?" Williams tentatively enquired, noting the sheen in the LT's eyes. Had the doc put her something? It would explain her mood. Not that Williams wanted to see the LT reduced to a quivering wreck and crying herself to sleep at night but she didn't think that such a sunny outlook seemed to be quite the right reaction to dodging certain death. Still...people processed things in their own way.

Voice returning to more its normal self, Storm leaned in closer to Williams, "What did you see? When you were, you know, on the table?"

"You mean like the white light people talk about?"

Storm nodded and Williams shrugged, "I really didn't see anything. I could hear voices from time to time. I think I heard the Skipper crying at one point," Williams shrugged uneasily; the thought of Shepard in tears didn't seem right, somehow.

Storm's gaze seemed to turn inwards as though she were watching something inside herself as she spoke, "I was in a place with rolling green hills in all directions, crystal clear sky, fruit trees...I could actually taste the apples and here's the weird thing-"

"Weirder than a near-death experience?" Williams deadpanned. Storm grinned at her.

"All my scars," she rotated her right arm, showing the white scarring from Torfan, "Were gone and everything was perfect."

"Heaven," Williams spoke in a near whisper, knees feeling as though they might spill her to the deck.

"Hardly," Storm countered, "I don't really believe in God."

This time, Williams _did_ take the LT by the hands and squeezed, "Ma'am, I don't want to force my beliefs on you, but that sounded like...God, you were right at the..." she trailed off, not able to voice her thoughts.

Gently, Storm squeezed back before disengaging her hands, "Some people believe all that white light stuff is just neurons in the brain firing off at random as the brain runs out of oxygen."

Williams shook her head so forcefully, strands of hair escape the bun at the back of her head and she pushed them behind her ear. "No, I don't believe that."

Storm shrugged again, "Of course, if people are brought up to believe certain things then that might influence what they see, or think they see in extreme situations."

"You think you hallucinated the whole thing?" Williams' tone betrayed her stark unbelief in this theory.

"Pain, shock, adrenaline, the drugs from the medical systems in my suit, the human brain does funny things under stress" Storm waved a hand as though to dismiss the entire affair. That was then, this was now, after all.

Williams frowned at the other woman who still had that faint smile on her lips. "I'm sorry but, how can you be so..._cheerful_ after all that?"

Storm sighed, "Look, after I woke up and realised how close I'd come to..." she trailed off before continuing, "I realised I had to make a choice: I could either keep on letting things get to me and let that little voice in my head drag me under or I could decide to let go of all the things I can't control and just learn to accept myself and things the way they are."

Williams was silent at this; Storm went on, "And you know what, Ash? I feel _good_. For the first time in I don't know how long, I feel really good. I don't have that voice in my head second-guessing me all the time and if I wander around with a goofy look on my face, so what?"

Williams recoiled half a step; the LT spoke with such passion and conviction. "I'm sorry, Ma'am. I didn't mean anything by it."

Another smile broke out on the LT's face, "Ash, don't apologise, I appreciate you looking out for me." The smile quirked upwards a bit, turning mischievous, "Also, Chakwas gave me these pills..."

Williams' eyes went wide - the LT was turning into a _pillhead?_

Storm's head tilted back as her laughter echoed off the bulkheads. "You should see the look on your face, Williams. Oh, you're a prankster's dream."

"That wasn't even remotely funny, Ma'am," Williams ground out.

Storm shook her head, "Yeah, it was."

The Lieutenant wandered off, leaving Ash with the wrecked armour. As she went, Williams could hear her singing, "Always look on the bright side of life, de do do de do de do..."

---

Storm settled into the co-pilot's seat in the _Normandy's_ bridge, nodding to the helmsman.

Flight Lieutenant Jeff "Joker" Moreau turned to face her, readjusting the ever-present baseball cap adorned with the Alliance logo. "So," he drawled, "Sleeping Beauty's finally awake."

"Gee, Jeff," Storm bantered back, "Anybody'd think you actually missed me."

"While you and Williams were luxuriating in the medbay, being waited on hand and foot, a poll was conducted. You two have been voted Hardest to Kill Bitches. Congratulations," Joker extended his right hand between the seats.

Storm shook his hand, "What about Shepard?"

Joker shook his head and turned back to his consoles. "Seeing as how she hasn't had any pieces of giant alien ship that look like squid fall on her, she's out of contention."

"Hard to Kill Bitch...you think I should have some T-shirts printed up?" Storm mused.

Joker turned back to the Marine officer, "So..." he began.

"So...what?"

"Can I see it?" the tone of Joker's voice more closely resembled that of a small child contemplating his Christmas presents than that of an adult.

"See what?" Storm played dumb; she knew what. The bullet scar between her shoulders. With the aid of a mirror, she'd seen for herself the angry red mark in her back. Williams had been right - she _should_ be dead if only from the shock and blood loss alone. Yet, here she still was.

"The scar? Can I see it?" Joker sounded as though he should have been hopping from foot to foot in his excitement.

Face and voice filled with mock outrage, Storm replied, "No you may _not _see the scar! Lieutenant Moreau, I would have been _less_ offended if you had just asked me to show you my boobs!"

Joker leaned in towards the other seat, staring hard at Storm's uniform top. She was a slender woman and could never be described as 'curvaceous.' "You have boobs under there?" he said in mock amazement.

A smile tugging her mouth upwards, Storm lightly punched him in the shoulder.

Looking out the viewports before her, Storm saw the bulk of Arcturus grow slowly larger as the frigate entered an authorised shipping lane and cruised towards the headquarters of the human fleets. "I haven't been back here in ages," she said quietly. She wondered if she'd have the time to arrange a visit with Admiral Hackett whom she'd served as his personal aide for six months, before her posting on the SSV _Tokyo_.

"Me either," Joker said, fingers manipulating holographic control consoles seemingly at random. Looking at his hands and fingers, Storm thought that Joker would have made a good pianist. "I think I might hobble down to the flight school and rub everybody's noses in it about just how good I turned out to be."

"_How to Win Friends and Influence People._ Ever read it, Joker?" Storm teased.

The helmsman merely ignored her as he continued to pilot the _Normandy _to her destination. Keying the comm system, he connected with Arcturus Flight Control. "Arcturus Control, this is the SSV _Normandy_ requesting an approach vector and a berth, over."

"Roger _Normandy._ We have you on screen, uploading approach vector now. You are clear to dock in Berth 1195 Gamma X-Ray. Please confirm."

"Gamma X-Ray?" Storm mouthed at Joker. He shrugged. He didn't come up this stuff, he just flew the ship. Joker keyed the vector into his systems and the _Normandy_ immediately responded, banking around to her new heading.

"Approach vector locked in. _Normandy_ confirms we are clear to dock at 1195 Gamma X-Ray. Out."

"Well," Storm said at length, rising from her seat, "I need to speak to the doctor." She paused as Joker laid a warm hand on her forearm and she turned a quizzical look on him.

"I'm glad you're not dead, Hayley," was all he said and released her arm. Storm nodded jerkily and left.

---

Doctor Chakwas turned as the door to the medbay slid aside with a faint hiss. Framed in the doorway was her erstwhile patient, Lieutenant Storm. Chakwas nodded a greeting towards the younger woman and waved her in. "I'll be with you momentarily, Lieutenant," she said as she completed inventorying the supplies in the medical locker. It was a short list; between them Williams and Hailstorm - Chakwas smiled slightly at the nickname - had used up the bulk of her medi-gel and other supplies. Not that Chakwas begrudged them the supplies but right now, she'd be hard pressed to find a sticking plaster to put over a paper cut.

Closing the locker and keying it shut, Chakwas turned to face the young officer. "Lieutenant, I do hope you haven't found some way to injure yourself yet again?"

Storm didn't try to fight the smile that came into being on her face. She liked Chakwas - her dry sense of humour only thinly concealed the care she had for the crew. "Doctor, I came to thank you. For saving my life. Mine and Williams'. From the way Williams sounds, you performed some kind of miracle."

"Nonsense, I simply did my job. Though I have to say, you _do_ possess a will to survive bordering on pure bloody-mindedness, Lieutenant." Chakwas' tone carried faint praise.

Storm shrugged uneasily, "Still, I feel as though I owe you something, you gave me another chance and I-"

Chakwas cut her off, laying a finger against her lips, "Hush. I need no thanks. Now run along and enjoy your leave."

"But-"

"Go," Chakwas said gently but firmly and turned the other woman around to face the door.

"I-" Storm tried again. The doctor was being _so_ unreasonable!

"Now, please," and with that, Chakwas herded her out the door.

On the other side of the medbay door, Storm shook her head, "What just happened?"

"Hey, LT," Williams said as the Gunnery Chief walked by. "What's up?"

Playing on Williams' concern that she may be on pills, Storm replied, "I tried hitting up Chakwas for more drugs but she cut me off, the old cow!"

Williams rolled her dark eyes, "Very funny, Ma'am."

"Yeah," Storm deadpanned, "Now I'll have to sell my body for drugs just to be able to keep functioning."

"You're awful, LT," Williams said but was unable to keep a straight face.

"Seriously, though. I tried to thank Chakwas for..."

"Working a miracle on us?" Williams supplied.

"Yeah. She totally brushed me off. I think we should buy a gift for her, or something."

Williams nodded, "You're right. She can give us the 'just doing her job' spiel 'til the cows come home but I'd still feel better if we got her something."

"Sooo," Storm dragged the word out as they walked away from the medbay, heading towards the mess while they waited until the frigate had docked. "How well do you know the doctor?"

Williams slid into her customary seat at the table, slowly tapping a finger on the surface. "Not well enough to know whether she'd like flowers, chocolates or a voucher for a massage from a hot Swedish guy."

Storm's right eyebrow quirked upwards. "Come again?"

Williams' complexion reddened slightly. "I mean, I was just saying, I don't know what to get her."

"Hot Swedish masseuses, huh? Do your sisters know the kinds of shenanigans you get up to? Also, where can I get in on the action?"

"I'm going to do us both a favour and pretend I didn't hear what you just said, LT."

In a single decisive motion, Storm rose from the table and motioned for Williams to follow. "The Commander will know her better than anybody else here," she decided and the two Marines made for the commanding officer's quarters.

---

The small mirror of highly polished metal affixed to the bulkhead over the sink revealed a pallid, hollow-eyed face. Shepard's hair, normally smooth and lustrous hung limply along the planes of her face like the wings of dead crows. The recent ordeal Hayley and Ash had been through - and she realised she couldn't afford to think of them in first name terms any more - had marked her. Shepard pulled in a deep shuddery breath, feeling as though she might crack and burst into tears at any moment. It was odd, _she_ hadn't been shot and _they_ seemed to be recovering remarkably well from all accounts yet lately she just couldn't sleep.

Her nocturnal thoughts were plagued by _what ifs_.

What if she'd done things differently during that last drop?

What if she'd subdued Fredericks when he had stopped her rushing out after Williams and put her own life at risk, instead of letting Storm go down?

What would she do if one or both of them died? How would she cope?

Still eyeing her reflection, Shepard calmly told herself, "You've allowed yourself to get too close them, Alison. Williams especially. What was it you told her after Virmire? She was like the sister you never had and you love her like one? And Storm? She fit into the crew so well that it's almost as though she'd always been here and maybe you something of yourself in her. Plus that vulnerable side of her makes you want to reach out for her, keep her safe."

Taking another calming breath, the Commander came to a difficult decision: she had to put up those walls that she'd kept around herself for so long and keep her personal feelings well and truly buried. Treat them as professionals, nothing more, nothing less.

Shepard turned from her reflection and splashed cold water from the small sink over her face. The door chimed as she finished towelling her face dry.

"Yes?" she said loudly enough to be heard from outside.

"Commander?" it was Storm's voice and Shepard bit her lower lip.

Deliberately putting an undercurrent of coolness into her voice and hating herself for it, Shepard replied, "Yes, what is it?"

From the change in the tone of her voice, the Lieutenant could tell something wasn't right, "Are you OK, Commander?"

"Too busy to talk, Lieutenant," Shepard forced herself to say, voice harsh. Her chest hitched up and down and a tear slid from one bloodshot eye. _This is going well_ a sardonic voice whispered in her mind.

Voices muttered among themselves from outside for a moment and Shepard realised somebody else was out there with Storm. Williams, she guessed. Ever since...the incident, they'd been almost inseparable.

Outside the captain's cabin Williams told the LT, "Ma'am, just override the door lock already. Something's up with the Skipper." Nodding silent assent, Storm activated her omni-tool, the holographic device bathing her in amber light for several seconds as she bypassed the maglocks.

The control panel by the door flashed green and the door clicked open. Standing in the centre of the room, shoulders jerking with silent sobs was Commander Shepard.

"Skipper!" Ash pushed past the Lieutenant and rushed to comfort the Commander. Shepard tried to pull away, arms pushing her back but Williams gently took her hands and, uttering soothing sounds, pulled the older woman into a hug. Unsure what to do, Storm looked around to see if anybody else was nearby, and seeing that the immediate area was clear, ducked inside the suddenly too-small room and shut the door.

"Ma'am?" she began. Shepard was clutching Williams' back like a woman lost at sea holding fast to a life-raft. Williams looked up at Storm, her own dark brown eyes wet with tears and nodded her over. "Hey, come on, Commander, I know we both gave you one hell of a scare but..." her words tapered off and she settled for putting her arms around both Shepard and Williams. "It'll be OK, Shepard," she whispered into her superior's ear. Shepard shook her head, strands of hair adhering to her tear-streaked face.

Storm spoke more forcefully, "It _will_," she insisted, feeling herself begin to tear up. Oh this was great: three military women, who between them, had killed hundreds, holding onto each other for dear life and bawling their eyes out. "Come on, guys," Storm choked out, "If Joker sees us like this.."

Shepard sniffed and finally managed to speak, voice hoarse, "We'll be all over the extranet in a matter of minutes. God, this turned out well. I told myself I had to keep a professional distance between us because I let myself get to close to you both and would you _look_ at us?" Shepard laughed softly, echoing Storm's own thoughts.

Eventually the three parted and Shepard looked each woman in the eyes. "It's wrong of me to feel like this and I know it'll cloud my judgement but, God help me, I can't help how I feel about you. Ash," Shepard took her hand and placed it over her own chest, "You _are_ my sister, far as I'm concerned." Letting go of Williams, Shepard took Storm's right hand in both of hers. "Hayley...sometimes I see so much of myself in you, it scares me. I admire you as an officer and a soldier and...I love you as a best friend."

"God, Shepard!" Storm tried for an airy tone but the passion in the older woman's words shook her utterly. "We came in here to get some advice on what to buy Chakwas as thankyou gift and you turn all hippy-dippy on us!"

Shepard seemed to shake herself and pulled her hair into a pony tail secured with a thin elastic band. In a matter of moments, the professional Commander persona was back in place and Storm was glad. Seeing Shepard with her defenses in pieces at her feet...it had scared the hell out of her. And Shepard speaking so frankly about how close she felt towards them? Storm felt humbled and deeply moved that Shepard considered her in such a way.

"A present for Chakwas?" Shepard began, all business again. "She has a thing for old Mills & Boon romance novels."

"Seriously?" Williams answered, honestly shocked. The doctor seemed far too no-nonsense to buy into sappy romance stories. Still, looking at herself, most people were surprised by Williams' love of classical literature.

"Yeah. She also loves piano music, Storm."

"Realllly?" Storm smiled as an idea came to her.

---

Once docked at Arcturus and having cleared security, Storm and Williams took a intra-station tram to one of the many outlets human corporations had established on Arcturus to sell their wares to people onstation. Shepard had set Storm up with a requisitions account and enough credits to purchase some better-quality armour.

Exiting the tram into the crush of humanity, Williams asked the Lieutenant, "How do you think the Skipper knew about the doctor and her books?"

Storm shrugged, gaze intent on the entrance to a nearby Rosenkov Materials outlet. "She's a Spectre. Spectres are _supposed_ to know stuff. Could be the paperback book I spied poking out from under a folder on her desk though."

Arrayed inside the store's display window were three mannequins, each wearing an example of Rosenkov's light, medium and heavy Titan-model hardsuit. The hardsuits featured a black and grey camouflage pattern particularly suitable for combat in urban environments. Pointing at the heavy-class model, Storm asked the Gunnery Chief, "What do you think?"

Williams cast a critical eye over the display. "Titan suits have above-average ballistic protection but the shielding's maybe too low for my peace of mind."

"I can fiddle with kinetic barrier emitters; amp up the output," Storm said confidently.

Williams turned to the Lieutenant, "Won't that void the warranty?"

The Lieutenant chuckled. "There's a reason most armour manufacturers never have to worry about warranty issues - if their gear doesn't stand up, the wearer isn't usually in a position to lodge a claim."

Williams nodded sombrely. From what she'd been able to glean after the attack on Eden Prime, Corporal Jenkins who'd been in Shepard's ground team had suffered the exact fate the LT had mentioned. Scuttlebutt said that the barriers on his Onxy had simply collapsed and the ballistic plating failed to hold up under the barrage of gunfire that had dropped him.

Inside the store, the Marines were met by a professional-looking young man wearing navy-blue trousers and a long-sleeved white business shirt and tie.

"Welcome to Rosenkov Materials' Arcturus branch. How may I assist you, Lieutenant, Gunnery Chief?"

"Yes, we're interested in the Titans you have on display," Storm said.

The man nodded, "Excellent choice, Lieutenant," he beamed. Chances are, he would have said _Excellent Choice_ if Storm had just told him she was interested in being used as a target drone. He had that kind of corporate boot-lick look about him.

Corporate Boot-Lick Man gestured for the Marines to follow him and as he led them to the rear of the store and the changing rooms he said, "We have a special this month only: a free choice of either a combat exoskeleton upgrade or mod-nine medical exosystem."

"Medical exosystem," Storm and Williams chorused in unison.

"Excellent choice!"

Storm covered a laugh with a hand.

Corporate Boot-Lick Man began his marketing shtick, "The latest-model Titan features a lighter composite ballistic compound with weight reductions of fifteen percent across the range yet it also offers a higher level of ballistic protection than competing models."

Storm ran her fingertips over the surface of the offered breastplate, feeling the slightly roughened texture of the ballistic compound and, by her estimation, Corporate Boot-Lick Man hadn't been lying about the weight reduction. "What d'you think, Williams?"

"Let's try them on and see how they fit."

In the change booth, mindful of any cameras and bored security staff hoping for a flash of pixellated nipple, Storm kept her underwear on as she worked her way into the hardsuit. With the last of the catches in place she activated her omni-tool and interfaced with the hardsuit's onboard systems. Storm stepped out of the booth as the suit ran a diagnostic check. When all systems checked out green, the Lieutenant performed a series of stretches, testing the limits of the suit's flexibility and found it comparable to her old Mantis.

Storm looked over as Chief Williams stepped from her booth, looking all manner of intimidating in the heavy-class chassis. She held her arms out by her side as she turned in a slow circle."What do you think?" she asked.

Storm nodded. "If I were a man, the only thing on my mind would be how hot you look right now."

Williams' hands fell to her sides. "K...tad disturbing, Ma'am."

"Hey, look on the bright side: the bad guys'll be too busy pointing you out and saying _Phwoar! Eh lads?_ to actually shoot at you."

Williams nodded solemnly to Corporate Boot-Lick Man. "We'll take them."

---

With the hardsuits paid for and delivery to the ship assured within the hour, Storm and Williams set about finding a bookstore.

During the walk from the armour store, Storm noticed a familiar figure hobbling towards them with the aid of crutches from the other direction. And it wasn't Joker.

"Coops?" Storm greeted her old room-mate from her time on Arcturus. The brunette woman in dress uniform and her right foot swathed in strapping tape halted and leaned back against the wall.

"Storm? The frack are _you _doing back here? I thought you couldn't wait to get out?" Lieutenant Kylie Cooper enquired of her old roomie.

"Shepard authorised a side-trip to procure more supplies. This is Gunnery Chief Williams, by the way."

"Ma'am," Williams saluted.

"Chief," Cooper nodded back.

"What happened to you?" Storm nodded at the ankle.

Lieutenant Kylie rested the back of her head against the wall, eyes closed. Opening her eyes again, she said, "OK, so final of the Marines v Navy Pukes women's basketball tourney. Final quarter, three minutes to go. Coach sends me in off the bench 'cause Simms fouled out, right?"

Storm who had little to no interest in basketball, women's or otherwise nodded. Kylie went on, "I'd had a pretty good game myself, eight points, two rebounds _and_ a block."

"Neat," Williams put in. Storm merely smiled and nodded.

"So I have the ball, I go in for a three point jump shot from down town, land badly and _boom,_ my ankle's screaming bloody murder. Doctor says it's only badly sprained and there's no ligament damage. Still aches like a bastard though."

"Ouch," Storm said in commiseration. "Did you make the shot?"

Kylie laughed humourlessly. "That's the worst part! The ball rimmed out and in the end, the Navy pukes beat us by five. Ugh, we'll never live that down, I swear."

As Kylie got her crutches back under her arms, she gave Storm a closer look. "You seem...different somehow, Hayles. It's like something's been lifted from your shoulders."

"Recent events have forced a re-examination of my priorities," Storm answered. "Life's too short to let myself be pulled down by things I can't control."

Kylie's face fell, "Damn, and I was hoping for a story filled with lots and _lots_ of hot sex!"

Williams laughed and Kylie nodded, an impish smile on her face, "Oh yeah, around here if you know where to go and who to get drunk, you can have a good time any night of the week. Been nice seeing you again, Storm but I have to run...or hobble."

As Storm and Williams watched Kylie head away from them, lips pursed and eyes narrowed in concentration, Williams said, "She seems nice."

Storm smirked, "Hmm-hmmm. Kylie's_ real_ popular if you get my drift. She's a sweetheart once you get past that, though."

The bookstore, which bore the name Page Turner, carried a wide variety of books both in electronic format and in hardcopy. Inside the store and surrounded by shelves of books seemingly stretching out before them into infinity, the soldiers were met by a rail-thin redhead who managed to make Storm look like a plus-sized model in comparison.

The redhead wore a nametag reading Paige Turner - Proprietor. _Cute_ thought the Gunnery Chief. Paige smiled in greeting, flashing too-white teeth. "Good morning! How can I help?"

"Bodice-ripping romance novels," Storm said, managing to keep a straight face. "Got any?"

Paige nodded enthusiastically, strands of copper-coloured hair flying. "Of course, of course! Right this way, ladies."

"Uh...LT," Williams said, "I'm gonna go stand over there for a while," Williams pointed vaguely at the exit. And left before the officer had given her leave to.

Paige linked her right arm through Storm's left and guided her to several shelves of paperbacks featuring women whose bosoms all but spilled from the old-fashioned gowns they wore and men with impossibly smooth bare torsos and long hair. _Doctor Chakwas...you're just full of surprises_.

Releasing the Lieutenant's arm, Paige said, "As you can see, we carry a _wide_ selection! Five for ten credits! Get 'em while they're hot!" Storm managed a weak smile as Paige tittered to herself.

Storm picked up a bundle of novels at random, briefly read the blurb on the back of each one, and became more and more mystified by the Doctor's reading habits with each one. _Shepard with her old-timey music, Williams and Wordsworth, me with my classical piano and Chakwas with her...OK words fail me._ Still, who was she to judge?

Storm carried her bundle of romantic literature over to the customer service counter, parted with ten credits, and, declining a recyclable bag, got the hell out.

Outside the store, books under one arm, she hissed at Williams, "Thanks for leaving me alone in there!"

"Ma'am, did you _see _the look she gave us? She thought we were...you know!" Williams held up her hand and crossed the middle finger over the index.

Storm looked nonplussed. Williams went on, "And there's _you_ asking for 'bodice ripping romances!' My _God!_"

For Storm, the penny finally dropped. She glanced back over at Paige who caught her looking and gave her a come hither smile and a saucy little wave. "That would explain the way she took me by the arm before..."

---

"So, we need a way to get the doc down to the garage without arousing her suspicion," Shepard mused as she, Williams and Storm met later in a small cafe in a less-busy sector of Arcturus.

"We _could _punch Mike in the throat hard enough to crush his windpipe and have her come down to intubate him," Storm said brightly and sipped from her tea.

Shepard and Williams just eyed her steadily. "Or not," she added.

Williams frowned. "She's too smart to fall for a faked injury, we should just be straight up with her."

Storme nodded, "Hmm yes, _Oh Doctor, we need you to come down to the garage because we have a pile of trashy novels for you..oh and I want to perform a few piano concertos for you!_"

Williams glared at her, "You don't have to be such a bitch about it!"

Shepard raised one hand, the other rubbing her temple. Her two closest friends...carrying on like three year olds. "Ladies please. I'll talk to Chakwas. Lieutenant I want you to head back to the ship and set up your keyboard. Dress uniform please," Shepard nodded as Storm rolled her eyes, "If it's worth doing, it's worth overdoing," Shepard went on. "Williams, find some wrapping paper and a pretty ribbon and do the books up."

"Sorry Skipper, I left my pretty ribbon in my other pants," Williams quipped before leaving the table.

---

The collar of her dress uniform slightly too tight against her throat, Storm sat before the keyboard, waiting for the medic to arrive. As the sound of the humming elevator reached her, she rose from her seat, smoothed down her clothing and joined Williams who was similarly attired and holding the gift-wrapped stack of romance novels in her hands. Together, they stepped forward to meet the elevator as the doors slid aside, revealing a puzzled looking Dr Chakwas and Commander Shepard.

"I trust there is some method to your madness, Commander?" Chakwas said in her dry way, as she eyed the soldiers before her.

Williams stepped forward, bearing the books like a holy offering. "We wanted to give you something to say thanks for saving our lives," Williams began and, seeing the look of protest on the older woman's face, added, "_And_ we're not taking no for an answer. I heard you liked romance novels so..." and Williams handed over the bundle.

Accepting the package, Chakwas turned with an arched eyebrow to Shepard, "And from where did you hear that?"

Storm led the doctor to a seat fashioned from an empty ammo crate with a pillow atop it and urged her to be seated. Somewhat reluctantly, the doctor complied and watched as the young lieutenant settled herself before her keyboard. Storm inclined her head towards the doctor. "Any requests?"

"Well...I've always been partial to the Moonlight Sonata," Chakwas answered.

Storm nodded, "Yeah..." she said and began to play.

When the impromptu concert was over Dr Chakwas spoke quietly to Williams and Storm. "Thank you," was all she said.

"No..." Storm replied, "Thank _you._"

**A/N:** Certain parts of this chapter turned out heavier than I had intended. _Always Look on the Bright Side of Life_ is from Monty Python. Props to Zing-Baby who, in kronots, likened Sovereign to a giant squid. And Dr Chakwas and romance novels? It was either that or books about serial kilers :)


	9. Sand Blasted

**A/N: **For Vshard, whose idea it was. Reap what you sow. :)

**Sand Blasted**

**Now**

The young woman known to her comrades as Hailstorm lay on her back on an exam table in the _Normandy's _medbay. Her hands were neatly folded across her chest and, though her body was still, her eyes flicked rapidly side to side, up and down; testament to her whirling thoughts and heightened perceptions.

As she lay on the table, myriad colours swirling against the insides of her eyelids, she became aware of a dull humming emanating from within the ship - the normally almost inaudible background thrum of the _Normandy's_ element zero core. And to Hayley's almost supernaturally-tuned hearing, the thrumming carried an oddly discordant note like a piano just slightly out of tune. Slowly, the lieutenant placed a hand against the bulkhead beside her, and felt the hum vibrate through the palm of her hand, the heartbeat of the frigate. Hayley removed her hand yet still felt her skin tingling and she saw blue flicker and flash through the lines of her palm, almost too quickly to see.

Slowly and carefully, the lieutenant sat up, feeling the blood flowing through her veins and arteries as she moved. Hayley swung her feet over the side of the table and, for an instant, her entire universe tilted sharply to one side then another before steadying again. The metal decking felt intensely cold against the soles of her bare feet as she stepped to a comm unit on the bulkhead near the door.

"Just need to make a quick call, then I'll go right back to bed," she said aloud to the empty air, as though to forestall any arguments from the bulkheads. Hayley thumbed the intercom button and a not unpleasant tingle ran from her fingertips and up through her arm and shoulder.

"Engineering," the voice of Technician Second Class Anders spoke through the comm. Hayley winced and dialed back the volume on the speaker.

"Anders, Lieutenant Storm," she said, managing to keep her voice level.

"Storm?" Anders sounded surprised to hear from her. No doubt the rumour mill had already spun up a tale of just how she'd ended up in the medbay whacked out of her mind on red sand. "I thought you were off with the fairies?"

"I still am. The fairies brought me a message. I need to speak to Adams," she said, voice still very matter of fact despite the auras of rainbow colours that tinged her peripheral vision.

"Uh...sure," Anders replied sounding anything but sure, "He's right here."

"Adams," the chief engineer said after a moment. "Why aren't you bed, Hayley?" he asked in fatherly tones.

"I'm coming off a red sand high, Adams. It's not like I'm pregnant or something," Storm answered. "You need to run a diagnostic pattern on the eezo core," she stated.

"I just completed one," Adams replied patiently, "All systems are nominal."

Hayley pressed a hand against the bulkhead by the comm. Again she felt that slightly off-kilter note in the symphony that was the core's pulse. "Run it again, level eight, at _least_. You'll find it. It's so subtle the regular scans wouldn't have picked it up."

"But you managed to?" Adams sounded unconvinced and his tone of voice suggested he was merely humouring her.

"I heard it through the bulkheads, sir. _Felt it_."

"I...see," Adams said after a moment. Then, no doubt still humouring her, "I'll run another pattern. Are you sure you're all right?"

"I'm past the worst of it. Chakwas will be around soon to talk to me some more. I better go, sir," Storm said and clicked off. She turned back to the exam table and contemplated the trip back.

In layman's terms, Hayley was sandblasted out of her mind. A very faint blue-white corona shimmered into being around her, the most widely-known effect of red sand: temporary telekinetic ability in those with no biotic capabilities. Compared to a trained biotic like Commander Shepard, the effect was extremely subtle, enough for Hailstorm, if she concentrated intensely, to send a handful of paperclips flying from Doctor Chakwas' desk and across the room. Which she had done. Likewise a sheaf of hardcopy which had taken flight with a snapping sound like bird's wings.

The effort had been enough to leave the young Lieutenant physically drained and now she lay back on the table motionless, save for her flicking eyes. Those wide hazel eyes, bloodshot from the effects of the red sand flicked to the right as the door to the medbay slid aside with a quiet hiss. To her heightened senses however, the quiet hiss was as loud and piercing as a blast from a semi-trailer's airbrakes and Hailstorm flinched as the doctor stepped into the room. Chakwas' normally soft footsteps seemed to boom and echo off the cold metal bulkheads and Hailstorm's eyes squeezed closed as she tried to block out her perceptions.

As she entered her workspace, Dr Chakwas consulted the datapad held in one hand. The device held the complete medical history of her patient from treatment of a childhood allergy to wasp stings, to the genetic modifications she'd received upon enlistment in the Systems Alliance Marine Corp. Chakwas' gaze quickly took in her patient's basic data:

**Name:** Storm, Hayley Anne  
**Date of Birth:** 23 May 2159  
**Place of Birth:** San Francisco, Earth  
**Height:** 1.75m  
**Weight:** Undisclosed  
**Date of Enlistment:** 23 May 2177  
**Military Specialisation:** Infiltrator

Hayley, the doctor noted had no prior history of alcohol or drug abuse and Commander Shepard had requested that the Doctor be the one to discuss what had happened during the last operation, rather than leave the young officer in the dubious care of an Alliance Military appointed counsellor.

Dr Chakwas pulled out the office chair from her desk and wheeled it up beside the exam table upon which Hayley lay and seated herself. The chair's gas-operated height adjustment made a faint squeaking sound and Hayley cringed.

"Are you feeling all right, Hayley?" Chakwas asked gently.

"So loud, the noises," Hayley muttered, "They're so _loud!"_

Chakwas removed a stylus from the inside of her white lab coat and made a note in the file, _Heightened senses._

"Try not to worry about it," she advised her patient, "It's a side-effect of exposure to red sand."

"They're gonna kick me outta the Marines for this, aren't they?" Hayley asked, voice rising. "I mean, hell, a person can't be exposed to _that_ much red sand and not end up hooked on the stuff, right?"

When she next spoke, Chakwas' voice was low and soothing, "Even in the event that you _have_ developed an addiction to red sand, there are treatment options available to help kick the habit. This doesn't have to be the end of you career."

Slowly, Hayley turned her head to the right to face the doctor, eyes narrowing as a line appeared in her forehead, "End of my career?" she whispered harshly, "Yeah, you'd like _that_, wouldn't you!"

Chakwas' eyebrows raised themselves slightly at this change in her patient's demeanour.

Hayley went on, "I know what you're up to,_ Doctor!_ I won't let you, _any _of you bring me down." Hayley turned her face away and the doctor saw her eyes glimmering with unshed tears, "You're all against me, aren't you? But I won't break! I won't give you the _satisfaction!"_

Chakwas recoiled in her seat as, on the last word, Hayley sat bolt upright on the bed and shouted at the ceiling before slumping back on the table, chest rising and falling rapidly with exertion. Extremely faint filaments of blue-white power danced momentarily from one gritted tooth to the next before vanishing.

_Paranoid behaviour _Chakwas noted.

Hayley seemed to crumple in on herself and, when she turned back to face the doctor, all the rage had left her face and she looked years younger than her actual age, almost like a child. "I'm sorry," she said in a small voice, "I shouldn't have snapped at you like that, that wasn't right of me. I'm sorry," she said again, even more quietly.

_Rapid mood fluctuations _Chakwas entered into the file. So far, this was all par for the course for somebody coming off a red sand high.

"Why don't we start at the beginning?" Chakwas asked when the young woman had calmed somewhat.

"The beginning? Yes! Good, great idea!" Hayley nodded enthusiastically. "I was born on Earth, twenty-five years ago. Wait, wait. I suppose the _real_ beginning would have been when my parents first met...or maybe even _before_ that when _their_ parents met. Jesus, how far back do you want me to go?"

Chakwas spoke carefully, "Perhaps you should begin with telling me about the particular mission during which you were exposed to the red sand?"

Hayley's tired-looking eyes blinked rapidly as she digested this proposal then she nodded and with a breath, began to speak.

---

**Then**

"Commander, we're picking up a coded message on the secure Spectre channel," Joker advised the _Normandy_'s commanding officer over the ship's PA system. Lieutenant Commander Alison Shepard looked up in surprise from her station above the holographic galaxy map in the centre of the CIC.

The Spectre-only channel was reserved solely for communications between one Spectre and another. Not even the likes of Donnel Udina or Admiral Hackett had the authority to transmit across it. "Patch it through to the comm room," Shepard instructed and turned to her navigator, Pressly who stood at his station, hands folded behind his back.

"Commander Pressly, you have the deck," Shepard said as she stepped from the platform above the galaxy map and headed aft.

"Aye, Commander," Pressly acknowledged, "I have the deck."

As Shepard strode towards the comm room, the doors automatically opened to admit her and slid shut on her heels. The rear wall of the comm room was dominated by a large holographic viewscreen, used to project streams of information or video feeds from units in the field.

The display currently contained the image of a familiar turian with blue tribal markings on his face and an optical interface swung into position over his right eye.

"Garrus. This is a welcome surprise," Shepard said in greeting as she fell into parade rest in the centre of the room. The image of the turian Spectre nodded at Shepard.

"Commander, good to see you looking well," Garrus said, his flanging voice seeming to echo from the hidden speakers. "The reason I contacted you-" he began.

Shepard smiled, "I figured it wasn't to wish me a happy birthday," she said with a wry smile.

The turian's mandibles twitched in amusement, "Same old Shepard," he bantered before his voice turned serious, "I've been on the trail of a syndicate of red sand dealers and slavers with ties to batarian interests."

Shepard's jaw tightened. Scum like red sand dealers destroyed peoples' lives and the more ruthless among them tended to sell addicts who couldn't afford to continue to pay for their drug habits to batarian slavers. "What can you tell me about them?" she asked, voice low.

"They've mostly been active throughout the Terminus Systems but intelligence from salarian STG teams points to a sizeable red sand processing and distribution facility in the Hades Gamma cluster." Garrus folded his arms across the front of his grey Phantom hardsuit. "My team is capable but I feel we could use backup from people who aren't tied down by procedures and red tape."

Shepard nodded, a smirk flitting across her lips, "I'm guessing you aren't feeling inclined to read them their rights when you find them?"

Garrus' mandibles quivered and when he next spoke, his voice was low and cold, "I'll deliver their rights to them from the barrel of my sniper rifle, Commander. I saw too many drug peddlers go free with barely a slap on the wrist when I was in C-Sec and I saw, first hand, the kind of damage they went on to cause later on." The turian shook his head emphatically, "I won't let that happen again. Can I count on you, Shepard?"

Shepard smiled wryly. "A chance for an honest to God shootout with criminal scum? How can I say no? Hell, it'll be just like that time we cleaned out Chora's together." Shepard sighed to herself, "I miss Wrex."

Garrus' mandibles spread in the turian equivalent of a smile, "I ran across Wrex recently. He sends his regards."

Shepard laughed softly and bade the turian Spectre farewell.

---

The _Normandy_ emerged from the mass relay into the Dis system amid an intense blue-white flash as the ancient relay system had its wicked way with the fabric of space-time. Not to mention drugging the laws of physics before shaving off its eyebrows.

"Transit is complete, Commander," Joker commed from the bridge, "All systems nominal, stealth system engaged."

Shepard nodded from her place in the bridge behind the helmsman's chair. "Good work, Joker. We should be receiving a coded burst from Garrus soon. His ship is hiding out in the shadow of an asteroid."

The field of asteroids, composed mainly of extremely dense metal-rich rock, provided enough interference for spacecraft to lurk in-system without detection. Soon, the Alliance frigate received a tight-beamed transmission. The source was a sleek, angular frigate-class vessel of turian design. "SSV_ Hecate _hailing SSV _Normandy."_

Joker keyed the comm, "We receive you loud and clear, _Hecate._ Go ahead."

When the _Hecate_ sent its next transmission, the voice carried over the comm was a familiar one. "_Normandy_, this is Agent Vakarian. We request permission to dock."

Joker looked over at the Commander who stood quietly behind him and to his left, hands clasped behind her back. She nodded once and Joker replied to the _Hecate_ "Permission to dock granted, _Hecate._ Moving into position now. ETA four minutes."

Shepard, already wearing her Armax Arsenal hardsuit, turned on her heel and left the bridge, confident that Joker could handle the docking operation with his eyes closed. As she made her way towards the main elevator, she placed a hand to her ear, keying her personal comm unit. "Storm?"

Hayley, in the process of securing the catches holding the breastplate of her Titan hardsuit to the rear armour panel, looked up as her comm unit bleeped. She paused to pick up the device, awkwardly holding the breastplate against herself with the other arm. It would be typical of her luck for her to lose her tenuous hold on the armour and expose herself to anybody looking in her direction. Say Mike the Requisitions officer at his station over by the elevator. Or even worse, PFC Fredericks, whom Hailstorm had caught with bootleg asari fetish OSDs on more than one occasion. What was with human males and asari? Or human males and females in general, she often pondered.

"Storm here," she spoke calmly as though she stood around by the lockers in the garage semi-naked as a matter of course.

Shepard's voice was low as though she didn't want anybody to overhear her and Storm listened closely. "Hayley," she began and the use of her given name tipped the Lieutenant off the fact that this wasn't just Shepard checking to make sure her squad was ready to drop. "Can I see you in my quarters?"

"Is there some kind of problem, Ma'am?" Storm replied evenly.

"We'll discuss it when you arrive. Shepard, out."

Storm shook her head, thumbed the comm off and resumed fastening the hardsuit into place.

When Storm arrived at Shepard's quarters, helmet tucked under her arm, the Commander was seated at her desk, looking somewhat pensive. Shepard rose as Storm entered the room. "Lieutenant Storm reporting as requested," she rapped out.

"At ease. Please, sit," Shepard gestured to the bed secured to the bulkhead. The sheets were crisp and the bed had been made with the kind of precision born of long years of service. Storm settled herself on the bed, placing the helmet on the deck by her feet. "Permission to speak freely?" she requested and Shepard nodded.

"What's up, Shepard?" Storm asked, coming straight to why her presence in the CO's quarters had been requested. "People are gonna start talking...two good looking women, alone together, you know." Shepard didn't smile, nor did the intensity in her blue eyes fade.

"I want you to reconsider taking part in this operation, Lieutenant," Shepard said after a moment. She took a breath and continued. "After what happened the last time we tried to take down a group of red sand manufacturers...I'm hesitant to put you into that kind of situation again."

Hayley sat back on the bed, somewhat surprised by Shepard's admission. It didn't seem right to her, the Commander letting her personal feelings cloud her judgement. "With respect, Commander, have you had this same discussion with Williams? Or is just me you're worried will crack under the pressure?"

"I...Williams has assured me she's ready to go."

Storm leaned in towards Shepard, deliberately getting inside her personal space, her hazel eyes locking with Shepard's blue ones "And I can also assure you that I'm ready to go. Dr Chakwas put me back on active duty status, as you must know," Storm had to struggle to keep her voice level. It was one thing to question her own abilities but for Shepard to do it? "Ma'am, if you have some problems with my performance to date, I want you to come right out and tell me but please, don't hide behind our friendship and use it to keep me on the ship." Now, Hayley's voice did begin to rise and it shook slightly with emotion.

Shepard was unable to hold the Lieutenant's gaze and broke eye contact, looking instead at the deck between her booted feet. After a moment, she looked up again. Storm had resumed her original posture on the bed but Shepard could still see the anger simmering just beneath the surface, could see the set of her body under her armour. Storm didn't get angry very often but she was angry now. "I didn't mean to offend you, Hayley and you're right," Shepard sighed, "I had no right to manipulate our friendship like that. Chakwas says you're good to go, physically and emotionally and you're certainly fired up enough that I wouldn't want to be in your sights any time soon."

Hayley snorted laughter and just like that, the tension dissipated. "I suppose I should be glad to be serving with an officer who doesn't view her troops as cannon fodder. Are we OK? We shouldn't keep Agent Vakarian waiting."

Shepard nodded and the two officers rose from their seats, Hayley straightening out the bedsheets without being consciously aware of it. "What's the bet that inside of twelve hours, the rumour mill will be thrumming with lurid tales of steamy lesbian sex between the first human Spectre and her comely young lieutenant?" Storm asked in mock seriousness as they left the office.

Shepard snickered. "You have a sick sense of humour, do you know that, Hayles? I like that in a person."

---

The comm room aboard the _Normandy _was quite a bit more crowded than usual. Aside from Shepard's usual ground team of Lieutenant Storm, Gunnery Chief Williams and Private Fredericks there was the turian Spectre Garrus Vakarian and his team of elite turian military commandos. The newcomers were heavily armed and armoured, and Hayley saw several hundred thousand credits' worth of Haliat Armoury and Armax Arsenal gear clipped to various hardpoints on the turians' amour. She looked down at her new Titan-model hardsuit and, carrying only a sniper rifle and sidearm along with a field medical kit, felt distinctly under-dressed for the occasion.

"These guys look like they could fight a small war all by themselves," Storm murmured to Williams as they took their seats prior to the briefing.

Williams nodded, "And they'd win, too."

Williams' initial distrust of Shepard's non-human allies had long dissipated and she well knew that Garrus would have her back when the excrement interfaced with the air recirculators. Garrus operated with a high level of professionalism, matching her own and Williams knew he would expect nothing less from his squad members. The other three turians, who were yet to speak to anybody, all bore the same blue tribal markings on their faces, and Williams knew that they along with Garrus had all originally came from the same turian colony.

Shepard and Garrus clasped each other by the right forearm in greeting, a turian gesture that hearkened back to human handshakes. Williams had read that both forms of greeting had originated as a means by which two warriors made sure neither one had a blade up his sleeve. Garrus and Shepard both carried several. Up their sleeves and strapped to their thighs or calves. A Spectre was adept at dealing death from any distance and Shepard and Garrus were no exception.

"Commander, with your permission, I'll begin the briefing," Garrus requested after everybody had found a seat. Hayley found herself sandwiched between Williams and one of Garrus' squad members. Even seated, the top of the turian's head loomed several inches above her own. Shepard nodded and Garrus removed an OSD from a pocket on his hardsuit and inserted it into the comm room's data projector.

The holographic display came to life with footage filmed by recon drones. The red sand production facility comprised several of the pre-fabricated buildings that were the mainstay of any Alliance colony. Ringing the outside of the compound were numerous guard towers as well as heavy anti-vehicle turrets.

Garrus began speaking, "This footage was captured by drones dispatched by a salarian STG team operating in-system. They provided the intelligence for this operation but are committed in actions elsewhere at this time. We're on our own."

Garrus indicated the turrets, "These heavy weapon emplacements will make a direct vehicular approach impossible; I propose we drop the ground teams here," he pointed a talon at some low rolling hills to the north and east of the compound. "These hills will give us cover enough to approach the flanks undetected and once we're inside the effective targeting range of the turrets, the launchers will be unable to get a clear shot. This particular model of turret features safety cut off circuits to prevent them firing while friendlies are within range. Of course, they may have over-ridden the safeties so be ready to run. Just in case." Garrus' mandibles flicked in amusement.

Storm raised a hand and Garrus nodded to her. "Any chance we can use a targeting laser to paint the turrets for an orbital strike from the frigates?"

Shepard looked over at her squad second, "I like how you think, Storm. What do you think, Garrus?"

"It could work. Your lieutenant and I can fit spotting lasers to our rifles and paint the targets from the hills. They won't know hit them." Garrus nodded decisively. "While the _Hecate _is providing orbital bombardment, we can use the confusion to gain entry to the main facility. Then it's a by the numbers sweep and clear operation. Let's be clear," Garrus paused to make eye contact with everybody in the room. His keen-eyed gaze seemed to linger on Hayley for a moment longer before he looked to Williams. "We're not taking prisoners. As the human saying goes, terminate with extreme prejudice."

This time it was Williams who spoke up, "What if they surrender? Alliance combat protocols dictate that we can't kill a hostile if he surrenders."

"They won't back down, Chief," Garrus answered after a moment, "We've dealt with their like before. Any questions?"

When none eventuated, Shepard rose from her seat. "Crew dismissed. Assemble in the garage in twenty. We'll be hot dropping right out of the cargo hold."

---

"Well, _this _is unexpected," Storm said to herself as she peered through the rifle scope at the base laid out below the hills where she and Garrus had taken position.

The turrets and guard towers that had ringed the perimeter had been reduced to twisted piles of smoking metal and the lieutenant could see several bodies contorted in unnatural positions scattered amidst blast craters. The walls of the buildings bore dozens of holes from mass accelerator fire that had missed its target.

Storm keyed her comm, transmitting across the general freak so the combined unit could hear her. "This is Hailstorm. I have visual on the base...somebody got here before us and they've been busy. The exterior defences are down and I see several bodies. I have no contact with hostiles. Orders?"

Shepard's voice came over the channel, "I want you and Vakarian to rendezvous with us, assume hostile presence in the area until we confirm otherwise. Clear?"

_In other words, don't stumble into an ambush just because it only looks like everybody's dead. Yes, Mother._ Storm thought, smiling to herself. "Roger that, Commander, moving out."

"Damn," Hailstorm said to Garrus as they moved out, keeping low to avoid skylining themselves and presenting a target, "I was looking forward to unleashing Hell on them."

As the human Marine officer and turian Spectre made their way through the gently waving thigh-high grasses of the hill sides Storm turned to Garrus, "You were with the Commander while she was going after Saren. What was that like?"

Garrus tilted his head to one side as he considered his answer. "It was equal parts exhilarating and terrifying," he replied and Storm nodded. "Being free of the restrictions and bureaucracy of C-Sec and seeing the way things are done by humans was most interesting. Finding out our true enemy was a millenia-old AI construct, that was terrifying. A lesser person than Commander Shepard would have baulked at their duty but she saw us through to the end."

As they continued falling back to the rally point, Garrus went on, voice contemplative, "The Commander is an interesting person."

"How so?"

"She has kindness and a depth of compassion for her allies...but that masks a sometimes brutal ruthlessness in the face of her enemies. The galaxy is lucky to have her."

"Yeah," Storm said softly. "It is...we are."

Conversation lulled as they met up with the rest of the combined unit; Garrus' turian forces covering their approach from where they had bunkered down in the hills.

"Sitrep," Shepard ordered briskly when Storm and Vakarian arrived. Hailstorm activated her omni-tool and, with a few key-presses, sent the video feed from her hardsuit's helmet cams to Shepard for the Commander to view with her own helmet's holographic HUD.

Shepard's eyes moved up, down and across as she took in the images playing out before her. From the looks of things, whoever the mysterious third party was, they'd comprehensively terminated the exterior sentries and point defenses. Shepard closed the feed and signalled for her troops to fall in.

"Here's how things are," she began, sweeping her gaze across the assembled human/turian unit, "An unknown third party, possibly hostile to us, possibly not is on-site and doing our job for us." Meeting the eye of each turian in turn, she went on, "Our people have a saying: _the enemy of my enemy is my friend. _When we go in, stay alert and check your targets. If the gatecrashers are hostile, use of lethal force is authorised. Otherwise use your own common sense. I'm looking at you, Fredericks," Shepard said with slightly upturned lips.

The private turned pink but nodded. Williams bit on her lower lip, a bray of laughter struggling to escape. Hailstorm snickered to herself before turning her mind back to business. Shepard nodded at her. "Hailstorm, take point and lead us in."

---

Inside the red sand production facility gunfire and screams echoed from distant corridors and a strange red dust had coated the walls and floors. The fine particulate matter floated in the air like dust motes.

"Tell me that isn't red sand," Hailstorm groaned as an amber warning indicator flashed on her HUD. The indicator warned that her Titan's particulate filters were unable to screen out the very fine particles which were even now infiltrating her lungs. Keying the comm, she broadcast across the general channel, "We've got airborne red dust and my suit filters aren't...oh hell..." she trailed off as she began to experience feelings of light-headedness coupled with a rapidly rising feeling of euphoria. "I'm inhaling red sand dust and you know what? I feel fine!"

All eyes turned to see the tall hardsuited figure execute a strangely compelling twirling dance, head thrown back and arms extended as the red dust formed a patina across her helmet visor. Still broadcasting across the open comm channel, Storm giggled with child-like delight at the rainbow of colours that flickered and flashed across her field of vision. Somewhere at the back of her mind, a voice was saying something about having a mission to complete but Hayley ignored the voice utterly.

It was such a beautiful day! Why worry about such things? Coming to a halt, arms falling by her sides, she all but skipped across the floor, booted feet kicking up yet more red sand and headed towards Shepard who was staring at her in unbelief, arms crossed over her chest. Clearly her suit filters were working just fine. Pity, thought Hayley. Standing before the Commander, a lopsided grin on her face, eyes crinkling at the corners, Hayley, now almost perfectly sandblasted, placed her hands on the other woman's shoulders and touched her helmet visor to Shepard's so they could look eye to eye.

Shepard attempted to wiggle out of the lieutenant's embrace but her hold was quite insistent. The rest of the squad members merely looked on, wearing expressions ranging from concern and bemusement to barely suppressed hilarity. "Hey Commander," Hailstorm giggled, "Have I ever told you how much I admire you? I mean, if I were a man, I'd be hitting on you like _all the time!_"

Fredericks burst into laughter and Hailstorm turned to face him, "What? Like _you_ haven't gone there every night in your dreams!"

Whilst she was distracted, Shepard gently but firmly removed Storm's hands from her shoulders and carefully led her outside. "Where we goin?" the now high as a kite Hailstorm asked.

"We're going for a nice leisurely walk outside. You need some fresh air," Shepard replied, no longer bothering to keep the smile off her own face. Into her comm she addressed Garrus, "Can you take care of things without us, Garrus?"

When Garrus replied, he did an admirable job of keeping a straight face, "I think we can just about manage it, Commander."

---

**Now**

"Oh God!" Hayley moaned, hands on her face, "I practically came out and said I love Shepard!"

Dr Chakwas nodded solemnly, remembering the reaction from a certain asari, "Yes," Chakwas answered, "She _does_ have that effect of on people, Lieutenant."

Hayley went on, apparently not hearing the doctor, "Which I totally _don't_, by the way! Not like _that!_ I mean, yeah, she's a really great person and her eyes! God, a person could lose themselves in her eyes...um," eventually she turned to face the doctor, "This isn't going in my permanent file, is it?"

"I'm afraid so," Chakwas said and, seeing the alarmed look on her patient's face, hastened to add, "But I think I can see my way clear to...omitting certain sections from my final report. And don't worry, Lieutenant, this falls under doctor-patient confidentiality." _Not that it will stop Joker and the rumour mill _Chakwas thought ruefully.

Eventually, Dr Chakwas gave her patient a clean bill of health and ushered her from the medbay.

As Hayley headed out the door, the doctor called her back. "One last thing, Lieutenant."

"Doctor?"

"I don't want to see you in my medbay again." the warmth in the doctor's eyes told Storm she was only half-serious.

Hayley nodded and left.

**A/N: **Credit goes to Vshard, who suggested the basic premise to me. I hope you like the way it came out. I was going to elaborate on who the gatecrashers were but decided to leave that open to the imagination. In Mass Effect canon, the only things I could find on a red sand high was the biotic effect so I winged it for everything else including the colours and heightened perceptions.

I could probably keep coming up with stuff for this series forever but I have one more chapter to come.


	10. PEBKAC

**PEBKAC**

For Hayley Storm, formerly of the Systems Alliance Marine Corp, and principal security consultant of Storm Security Services, it had been a long and frustrating day. Exceedingly so. Originally, her foray into the world of corporate enterprise in the wake of her retirement from the Alliance military at the tender of age of twenty-eight had been meant to be something to keep herself occupied lest she go insane with boredom as a civilian.

That and the fact that she found she hated being somebody else's kept woman. Her significant other and former Marine Corporal William Carver had his bar and, old-fashioned gentleman that he was, had been perfectly happy to be the sole breadwinner. And, for about...oh eight weeks, Hayley had been content to do whatever it was civilians did. Then she got bored. Then she went out and founded her own company, using her technical skills to establish truly fearsome security protocols for various corporations for big money.

Hayley performed what she liked to term 'security audits' whereby she was invited to test a company's physical and electronic security and suggest ways by which both could be improved. In practice, she liked to steal away into the dead of night when Bill and their cat Purr-Jo were fast asleep and perform a sanctioned B & E on her clients' premises. The next day, she'd present them with a report detailing exactly how she'd been able to gain access to the supposedly secure areas of the company in question.

Her frustration was born of the fact that many, if not all, civilians she'd encountered in her new career were almost totally devoid of common sense when it came to even the most basic security protocols. Like using the number 1234 as a pass-code to enter what was supposed to be a 'secure' area.

The twenty-second day of March 2189 saw the now-thirty year old Hayley stumble into the apartment she shared with Bill and Purr-Jo, aghast by the depths of stupidity to which she'd been exposed to.

"Honey, I'm home!" she managed to say with forced cheerfulness as she entered the apartment, soles of her low-heeled shoes clicking on the polished hardwood floor.

Purr-Jo emerged at a run from deeper inside the apartment and skidded to a halt at her feet before twining herself between Hayley's ankles. "Hey, puss," Hayley greeted the tabby, crouching to scratch her between the ears. Still not content, Purr-Jo flopped onto the floor and rolled over onto her back, exposing her stomach for a rub. "You big sook," Hayley crooned, feeling herself begin to relax as she gently rubbed the cat.

"That you, Hayley?" Bill called out.

Hayley smirked, "Ah Bill, if it turned out to be somebody breaking into the place, do you really think they'd answer?"

Bill entered the living room via the kitchen. All six-four of him. Despite his retirement from the Marines, he hadn't lost his edge and still worked out every day. Hayley smiled, feeling herself warm at his appearance.

He wore an apron reading Kiss the Cook. Hayley stepped into the circle of his arms and obliged him, standing on her toes to reach. It was a long, deep kiss and by the end both participants gasped slightly. "Don't start something you can't finish, sweetheart," Hayley murmured as she stepped away.

"Rough day?" Bill asked. His rich deep voice still managed to raise a ripple of goosebumps over Hayley's arms even after all this time.

Kicking off her shoes and settling into the big leather easy chair with a sigh, she replied, "Just when I think I've plumbed the depths of human stupidity, people _still_ find new ways to surprise me. And not in a good way."

Hayley sighed and rested the back of her head on the seat back, eyes closed. She reached behind herself and unpinned her hair, freeing the golden shoulder-length locks.

Soft movement from behind the chair heralded the arrival of Bill as he gently massaged her shoulders.

"Better?" he asked.

She nodded, eyes still closed, "All kinds of better," she said quietly. Bill came around the front of the seat and settled his frame in next to hers. "Want to tell me about it?

---

The offices of the company she'd been hired to audit, McGinty & Associates Financial Planners were on the twenty-fifth floor of an ultra-modern seventy-five storey office tower that looked like all of the other office towers that surrounded it. Earth, thy name is Homogeneous. The tower was all gleaming glass and high-tensile plasteel and, as Hayley parked in an empty space right in front of the main entrance, she could see the sky and clouds reflected in the face of the structure.

The whole thing was like a giant mirror for a titanic fashion model, she thought as she got out of the car and locked it. Inside the cavernous lobby, she headed for the bank of elevators, returning nods from people as they passed her by. _I look just like them_ she reflected as she stepped into a waiting lift car along with a business suited man and woman deep in conversation about stock options.

Hayley had gone all 'corporate' much to her brother's dismay. The tall slender former first lieutenant now wore a tailored black suit jacket over a white blouse with a matching knee-length black skirt. She also wore glasses. The glasses had plain lenses and were merely an affectation, part of her Corporate Hayley persona - a smart, attractive, slightly geeky techspert and troubleshooter. Thanks to the genetic upgrades she'd received when she joined the Alliance military, her eyesight still tested out at twenty-twenty and she enjoyed superior night vision.

On her feet were black leather shoes with a modest heel. She'd tried going the high-heel route. Until she'd lost her balance trying to walk across her own living room floor and almost knocked herself out when her head smacked into the wall. It wasn't like she needed the extra height that badly either, she reflected.

"Which floor?' the man asked with a smile. His female colleague was now speaking rapidly into the kind of mobile phone that also managed to cram in a super-computer, high-speed 'net access and, for all Hayley knew, its own artificial intelligence. Hayley's father had told her of a time, in another age, when the telephone was simply a means of communication, not a status symbol.

"Twenty-fifth," Hayley replied, gaze straight ahead yet using her peripheral vision to watch the man as he watched her. Slowly the man's gaze travelled up and down and Hayley could almost hear his thought processes: _No tits or ass but nice legs._ As the elevator reached its destination, she turned to face him and asked sweetly, "Enjoying the view?"

She was out of the elevator and down the corridor before he could say a word. "Zing!" she congratulated herself as she arrived in front of the frosted-glass door of McGinty & Associates. Behind the door was a reception area featuring reproductions of classic paintings: Mona Lisa, Edvard Munch's The Scream as well as laminated A4 sheets stuck to the wall behind the front desk reading **This isn't an office. It's Hell with fluorescent lighting** and **Stress is when you wake up screaming and realise you weren't asleep**

Hayley had to smile at that one. Seated behind the front desk was a woman in her early twenties with shoulder-length black hair streaked with red and blue. A yin-yang symbol hung from a thin leather cord around her neck and a tiny diamond stud glittered in one nostril. The name-plate on the woman's desk read

**Candy Apple  
****Director Of First Impressions**

Hayley's head tilted to one side. Director of First Impressions? Candy Apple saw the look and nodded. "Giving me a fancy-sounding job title is cheaper than giving me a pay rise," she shook her head, a grimace of disgust twisting her pleasant features. "Apparently calling me a _Director_ is supposed to make me take pride in my work but you know what?" she asked, voice rising, no doubt so that she could be heard by her as yet unseen employer, "It doesn't!" Lowering her voice to levels more suitable to polite conversation she asked her visitor, "You're the chick from the security firm, yeah?"

Hayley nodded, eyes narrowing. Chick? Candy Apple pulled open a drawer of her desk and retrieved a strip of gum from packet of spearmint chewing gum which she unashamedly began chewing. "Want a piece?" she asked.

"Thank you but I'm trying to cut down," Hayley deadpanned. Then, because her curiosity had now reached intolerable levels she asked, "Forgive me, but...Candy Apple?" and gestured vaguely at the woman who nodded.

"I know. Like, what is _up _with that, right?" she exclaimed, wide-eyed before going on in her normal tone, "My parents are these new-age hippy types. Raised me up on this commune-type place in Wichita. Dad almost had a heart attack when I got a job in the corporate sector," Candy Apple said with a faint smile. "Anyhoo," she went on, consulting her computer, "You have a ten o'clock appointment with McGinty."

Hayley nodded and, noting the distinct lack of anybody else aside from herself and Candy Apple in the vicinity felt compelled to ask, "So where are the associates?"

Candy Apple shrugged, a lock of red and blue accented hair falling across her face. She tucked it back behind her left ear, "Technically me and the kid in the photocopy room _are_ the associates." She shook her head, "See, having _associates_ makes the company seem more professional than it actually is. And believe me, this place needs all the help it can get."

Hayley folded her arms over her chest, "If you hate the place so much, why do you stay?"

"Hate? Nah, I don't hate my job as such. I mean, I get paid to basically sit around all day and play Solitaire...be a sweetie and don't tell that to McGinty. _He_ thinks I spend all my time typing up his dictation. Sucker."

"From your lips to God's ears," Hayley assured her and made a lip-buttoning gesture as well.

"Bless!" Candy Apple exclaimed as she rose from her seat. She gestured for Hayley to follow her and led her past several grey filing cabinets to another frosted-glass door with the words Charles McGinty and below that Knock Before Entering.

Candy Apple simply pushed the door open and ushered Hayley in ahead of her. A thin, squirrelly-looking man with thinning brown hair and watery brown eyes magnified by lenses of glasses that most certainly weren't for show looked up and frowned at the intrusion.

"Candy Apple, I've told you on several occasions to knock before you enter!" McGinty said with an oddly pitched nasally voice.

Candy Apple shrugged and chewed her gum before replying, "Yeah, you say a lot of stuff I completely ignore." Before her boss could answer, she cocked her head at the woman beside her and said cheerfully, "Hayley Storm of Storm Security Services come to plug all the holes in our network security before our competitors get ahold of our vital corporate secrets and bury us!"

McGinty frowned again, and several deep lines appeared in his forehead, "Thank you, Candy Apple. That will be all." Candy Apple shrugged and sauntered out.

"I apologise on behalf of the company for that _girl_'_s _shocking behaviour," McGinty said as he offered his hand to Hayley who shook it with a thinly veiled grimace. Shaking hands with Charles McGinty was akin to holding a dead fish. Only a dead fish would have had a stronger grip. "Good help is _so_ hard to find these days!"

Hayley forced a smile on her lips and nodded. "I understand you've had some problems with sensitive data ending up on the extranet?" she began, taking a seat in the chair McGinty indicated. The seat cushion emitted a tired-sounding groan as it settled beneath her weight.

"Quite right! I have no idea how people are able to access our data! I must say, I find the entire thing deeply mysterious and distressing."

"I'm sure it is," Hayley said dryly. "I think I'll begin by taking a look at the security protocols on your personal desktop and move on from there. Do you mind if I..?" Hayley stood and came around the other side of McGinty's desk. The desk was sparsely decorated with a vase of wilting flowers and a family photograph showing McGinty, an equally unassuming woman who was likely his wife and two school-aged children who had, unfortunately for them, had inherited their father's poor eyesight. Both the boy and girl wore the kinds of spectacles that no doubt resulted in their being stuffed into the lockers at school by bored teenage thugs.

"By all means!" McGinty said, "Can I get you a tea or coffee? I suppose I'll have to get it myself, that _girl_ out front will absolutely not lift one more finger than is absolutely required!"

"That'll be fine," Hayley assured McGinty and settled herself in his chair. The monitor before her displayed a login prompt and she quickly typed something into the password field, testing a theory. The drives whirred as the system accepted the password, granting her access to the system.

Hayley pushed back from the keyboard and removed her glasses, feeling very weary all of a sudden. She massaged the bridge of her nose for a time, attempting to come up with a way of conveying the problem that wouldn't involve an undue number of expletives and her questioning her client's parentage. Eventually she replaced the glasses and looked up at her client who was hovering about with an expectant look on his face.

"Here's the thing..." Hayley began.

---

In the apartment where Bill and Hayley sat snuggled together in the big easy chair, Bill blurted out, "No!"

Hayley nodded, luxuriating in the feel of Bill's fingers as they gently ran through her hair. "Yes," she confirmed, "His password really was _password."_

Bill shook his head, "Unbelievable..."

"People in the help-desk industry have a term for that kind of thing: PEBKAC."

"PEBKAC?" Bill echoed, sounding confused. Hayley's head nodded up and down under his fingers.

"Problem Exists Between Keyboard And Chair," Hayley explained with a smile.

After a moment, Bill figured it out, laughing and Hayley joined him.

**The End**

**Final Words: **PEBKAC is an actual term used to describe problems with computers caused by user error and general stupidity. Like in the old days when people would type Format C:\ and then wonder where their files went.

I wanted to close out this series with a little piece about Hayley's life post _Normandy_ and this is any idea I've had for a little while now. Purr-Jo is a deliberate mangling of the car brand Peugeot, for those of you who were wondering.

A big thanks goes out to everybody who's read and reviewed this, particularly Kendoka Girl and Vshard who always find something positive to say. Thanks a lot, girls. Now my head's gotten so big, it won't fit through doorways. :)


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